Joy Comes in the Morning
by Katla
Summary: In the early days of the Empire, Darth Vader suffers through his government duties and quietly plots to overthrow his master. Padme Naberrie sits behind a desk in the Galactic Senate, uprooted by the destruction of her home world. Hope is scarce for them and for the galaxy at large... but when their disparate paths cross, two lost souls might just change the galaxy forever. PT AU.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

A single moment is capable of changing everything. Whether for the better or for the worse, a single happening, feeling, word, or decision possesses the power to alter a life or even a galaxy.

There had been many such moments in Anakin Skywalker's life. His entire existence, when he expended the effort to examine it, seemed to depend entirely on these moments, some arbitrary, some planned… and some which did not fit comfortably into either category.

There was the moment he had been conceived, apparently by an act of the Force itself, for there was no father.

The moment he had met the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and been recognized as Force sensitive.

The moment he had left his mother behind to travel to Coruscant for training in the Jedi Order.

And there was the moment in which the entire progression of events was violently halted - the appearance of the first Sith Lord Anakin had ever seen, a Zabrak completely covered with fearsome tattoos and blazing with a presence in the Force that frightened Anakin more than his fiery eyes or his blood red light saber.

The death-echoes of Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi had scorched Anakin's young mind in much the same way that a wildfire might scorch a dry field, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. When Maul appeared later and dragged Anakin away, ignoring his attempts to escape and his pleas to be let go, he felt as though it was his life that had gone up in flames before his very eyes.

But it was the moment that Maul presented him to a cloaked figure named Darth Sidious that threatened to consume the memories of the others. For in that moment, when the dark, cloaked man glided over to examine Anakin, trailing a Force presence that felt like the icy vacuum of a black hole, Anakin had felt himself drifting away from his previous life as though every memory and feeling that had ever entered his heart or mind had been wrested from his grasp - and he could no longer claim them. He felt himself being shifted onto a new path, hurtling in a new direction plotted only by the one who coldly examined him.

In that moment, Anakin knew there was no escape.

There were many moments in his training with Maul that chipped away at him. He knew it was his Force potential, the very same potential that had drawn Qui-Gon to him, that brought the horrors of Sith training upon him. The constant brutal exercises and cruelties that Maul inflicted on him seemed designed to eat away at all that was Anakin Skywalker. It was as though he himself was a flaw, an unfortunate biological and emotional attachment to an enormous reservoir of power. A parasite that had to be eliminated before the power could be unleashed.

Anakin Skywalker's final moment came when, bruised and battered by Maul in yet another sparring match, Anakin finally managed to disarm his merciless trainer. Triumph flooded his veins and he felt the venomous satisfaction of witnessing Maul's pain and surprise at his defeat. This was the moment when Palpatine commanded him to kill his trainer. His hesitation was only momentary, washed away in a tsunami of anger and vengeance. With Maul's body at his feet, Anakin knelt and in his final moment he heard the words, "You shall be called Darth Vader."

And Anakin Skywalker died.

Darth Vader did not think of the past. He thought only of the future and his place in it. His power would grow, he was sure, to the point that it would become uncontainable even by Palpatine. One day he would become the most powerful Sith Lord, and he would destroy his master. When Palpatine's machinations to control the Republic came to fruition, and his master seized control not only of the Sith Order, but of the galaxy, Darth Vader realized that his dreams of power had not been big enough. Not only would he be the supreme Force-user after Palpatine's death - he would be the ruler of the known galaxy. His heart grew harder as he focused on his dream, and he forgot Anakin's life and Anakin's dreams. There was only one moment that he looked forward to. The moment he would strike down his master.

He believed in this last greatest moment with all his heart and bided his time until it presented itself to him.

But Darth Vader was mistaken.

This was not the moment that would change his life for the last time. This was not the moment that would usher him into the power and the happiness that he so desperately desired. The death of Palpatine would not be the final moment that shaped his long and painful road. There were several moments left in the life of the man who was once Anakin Skywalker.

And the first of these was about to present itself.

* * *

Life, Padme Amidala had learned, was capable of changing in the blink of an eye.

As a starry-eyed youth she had wanted nothing more than to serve the people of Naboo, her beautiful homeworld, and make the planet and the galaxy a better place.

Several lost elections, one invasion and the total decimation of her planet later, Padme was not so optimistic.

After watching her people and their world fall to the Trade Federation's merciless droid armies, enduring endless suffering and finally watching their planet and entire way of life die under the Federation's iron grip, Padme had grown more reserved with her hopes and her dreams. She had fled to Alderaan, becoming an assistant to Senator Organa, who helped her plead her planet's case to the Senate.

Nothing, of course, was ever done, but that did not stop Padme from trying. By the time Palpatine came to power and intervened, there was nothing left to fight for.

And Padme's heart grew a bit harder.

She no longer looked at the universe with automatic hope, with the irrepressible belief that somehow there was a way for things to end well. She began to expect the worst. Usually she was not disappointed.

When news reached her of her family's fate, she had been at her desk in Senator Organa's office as always, serving some function or other - she could never quite remember what exactly she had been doing at the moment the message arrived. Because once she heard the news of her family's death - a tiny drop in the ocean of casualties caused by the Federations work camps - her mind became incapable of retaining anything else about that day.

And inside, Padme Amidala died.

After that fateful day, she no longer retained any hope for change, for a peaceful or good solution to the galaxy's ills. The Senate, it seemed to her, was a masterful exercise in futility.

She was almost relieved when Palpatine assumed control and declared the former Republic an Empire. Perhaps, she thought vaguely, and with very little interest, something might actually be done about the problems plaguing their worlds.

But a dictatorship, Padme soon decided, was no better for solving the problems of its people than a corrupt republic was. And in many ways it was far worse. Now, instead of bickering openly, the Senators and their aides were forced to go along with the Emperor at all costs - or risk whatever terrible fate befell those who "disappeared" after openly criticizing or opposing Palpatine.

Padme came to believe that an imperfect Republic was preferable to the merciless rule and absolute control of one man. Freedom, surely, was worth something.

And so Padme continued to arrive at the Senate building every morning and assist Bail Organa in any and every way she could, regardless of the void in her heart left by the death of hope. Though hope had been extinguished and her thoughts of a future that was good had deserted her, in some tiny, secluded portion of her heart Padme still believed that there might be a chance to make a difference. This belief sustained her through all the storms of tears and the ferocious attacks of despair.

She would not be moved from her role, however miniscule, in the fate of the galaxy.

So she labored on, day in and day out, as part of the glorious failure that was the Galactic Senate. And she believed in that tiny corner of her heart that just as a series of moments had brought both her and the galaxy to their current tragic states, so another moment might arrive that would turn everything around. She waited for this moment without knowing consciously that she was waiting at all. The only thing she consciously felt was despair. But the tiny corner of her heart refused to die as she labored on.

And now, many years after her life had suddenly plunged into a whirlpool of tragedy and loss, the turning point was at hand.

Padme Amidala's moment had finally arrived.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The heaviness of Padme's heart was increasingly unbearable.

She sat in Senator Bail Organa's spacious office, staring blankly out the window panels to her right. The traffic flowed by as ceaselessly as a river, filling the air with the muffled vibrations of speeder traffic. The tiny portion of Coruscant's planet-wide cityscape that she could see was sleek and beautiful, and the numerous spires glittered in the afternoon sun. And although Padme could see it all, she was no longer capable of feeling any of it. Not for the first time, she felt as though she had been blasted out of an airlock with nothing but a tiny thread tethering her to reality. The thread, she thought, was weakening.

Her tired eyes returned to the desk in front of her, skimming the large stack of papers which never seemed to diminish. Reports, research, upcoming bills, correspondence… it was all there. And she was interested in none of it. There had been a time, she reflected distantly, when she would have been eagerly applying herself to all of these tasks, intent on doing what she could to bring about change for the galaxy.

But there would never be any change. Her shoulders slumping under an invisible burden, Padme knotted her brows and tried to breathe through the sudden onset of despair. These moments had been assaulting her since the death of her family, and they didn't seem to be getting any better. If anything, they were growing worse.

Oblivious to the warm sunlight reaching across the room and the sparkling brilliance of Coruscant's skyline, Padme stared unseeing at her work pile and attempted to summon the strength to perform her duties. It was then that she realized she was not alone.

Bail Organa stood at her side, having paused there as he swept through the wide entryway to his office. When she finally noticed him, he appeared concerned.

"Padme," he began in a tone that reminded Padme painfully of her father, "How would you like to have the rest of the day off?"

She wanted to reply sharply and say that she wouldn't like it at all, but she couldn't summon the necessary energy to be angry. And besides, she really didn't like anything anymore. She smiled faintly at Senator Organa.

"If you're sure you won't need me, then I'd be happy to accept that offer," she responded, wondering if her words sounded as empty as she felt. Judging by the tightening of Bail's lips and the way his eyes scanned her face, they did.

He finally gave up on his study. There was nothing to see - only a void. "Enjoy the time, Padme. And get some rest." The last part sounded a bit like a command. But Padme ignored it. Even if she had tried her hardest, rest would not have come. But she nodded to him, tidied her desk, and glided silently from the sunny room into the chilly, temperature regulated corridors leading to the staff landing platforms.

Her mind was, as usual, a million parsecs away from the rest of her as she let her feet lead her down the familiar route. Time off… what was she going to do with this day? It wasn't as though she had family to visit with, or friends to call. With a sinking feeling that soon turned to a ball of icy dread in her stomach, Padme began to fear that she would end up spending the day alone. And that she could not bear - not today.

She suddenly changed directions, nearly knocking over a small clump of aides who were bustling up the hall behind her, their eyes and ears engaged with an armload of data pads and whatever they were hearing from the commlinks in their ears. They shot her dirty looks of varying intensity and were on their way again in a flash. Padme just kept moving.

She wasn't even sure where she was going until she saw the blue holographic letters projecting from a wall-mounted display. _LIBRARY OF THE IMPERIAL SENATE_ floated in the air beside the massive doors which were carved with lettering from thousands of languages. There were a few words inscribed in Basic, but they were so small and crammed in with the swarm of words that is was nearly impossible to read. Padme glanced at the familiar decoration, but did not break her stride as she strode through the doorway. The doors zipped open silently and slid shut behind her. She breathed in the filtered air that somehow still retained the slightly acrid scent of electronic devices and scanned the foyer. It was beautifully constructed; polished marble composed the floor and walls and the pillars which lined the walls. It was the elegant opulence of the Old Republic at its best. Her eyes fell upon the Imperial Banners hanging from each pillar, looking rather like grey scars against the creamy marble. She frowned slightly and sighed, shifting her weight as she debated her next move. The glowing data shelves glimmered pale blue through the arch in front of her, and nothing but emptiness threatened to swallow her up from behind. She pressed forward, her feet directing her when her weary mind couldn't.

She soon arrived in the historical archives, halting in front of the records for the past twenty years. Her hand strayed toward a disc that held holos of Naboo, but she blinked and snatched her hand away at the last moment. Her lips tightened and she felt the warning signs of a breakdown - burning eyes, constricted throat, shaking… She turned sharply on her heel and rushed for the door. She wasn't really sure what she was doing here anyway.

The doors to the library, once a place of joy and sanctuary for her, closed behind her. Today she felt as though she had just left a tomb. Adrift and purposeless once again, Padme focused on breathing deeply and slowly. She needed to calm down, then she would find something to occupy her. Her heart rate began to slow and she relaxed a bit. Maybe-

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her commlink began to beep. Her heart raced again and she trembled slightly as she plucked the device from her belt, recognizing Senator Organa's frequency.

She swallowed once to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. "Yes?"

_"I know I gave you the day off, Padme,"_ he sounded regretful, but Padme detected something else in his tone as well. Something off…

_"I need you to come back to my office… or better yet, meet me outside the Senate Dome."_

She still couldn't place the odd tension in his voice, but her insides began to churn uncomfortably. "Of course, Senator. I'm on my way." She started toward the center of the building where the enormous Senate Dome was located. "What's going on?"

_"It's…" _he paused. Padme halted her steps for just a moment. Bail never paused. Something was wrong…

"_There's been a development," _his voice crackled to life again. _"Lord Vader has called a session of the Senate."_ Padme was drawing breath to ask him how in the galaxy he had the authority to do that, but Bail continued._ "Palpatine has declared him the official head of the Senate. He'll be presiding over our meetings from now on."_

Suddenly Padme recognized the tightness in Senator Organa's voice. She heard a corresponding tension in her own tone when she replied, "On my way."

It was fear.

* * *

Darth Vader was not pleased.

Seated at his desk in his private office suite in the Senate building, he glowered at the passing traffic through the tinted glass that served as the back wall. He had been commanded by the Emperor to preside over the sessions of the Senate in addition to his duties as Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army and second in command to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor.

If nothing else could convince him that Palpatine was evil, this would have done it. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists in anger. He had more important things to do than observe the endless, mindless games that were labeled sessions of the Senate! His roles in the military and the government more than occupied his time, and he had no desire for further responsibility. Particularly since he was plotting the overthrow of Palpatine.

He wondered if perhaps it was those very thoughts of supplanting Palpatine that had caused his master to saddle him with more responsibility. Keeping him busy would give him less time to plot. It seemed like a plan too simple for Palpatine… but then again, it was working so far.

He threw himself out of his chair and resorted to pacing across the plushly carpeted floor. He desperately needed to think, to decide how to handle this unforeseen situation…

But it was not to be. His desk holocom chimed, indicating an incoming message. He grunted impatiently and flicked a finger towards the offending object and the tall, imposing figure of Mas Amedda blossomed from the device.

He stopped pacing long enough to pierce Palpatine's representative in the Senate with a pointed glare. Amedda, like many of the Emperor's favorites, was confident enough in Palpatine's regard for him to ignore Lord Vader's irritation. He knew that Vader was less likely to harm someone in Palpatine's good graces. His confidence, Vader thought with grim satisfaction, would be misplaced one of these days. But he brushed the thoughts away and acknowledged the Emperor's pawn with a brusque "What is it?"

Amedda blinked slowly and addressed him with the practiced eloquence of an experienced speaker. "The Senate awaits your presence, my Lord."

Lord Vader was inclined to let the Senate wait, but he was not eager to irritate his master. He nodded and replied "Of course," briskly cutting the hologram and striding towards the Emperor's private chamber beneath the Senate chamber. The Central Pod was located there, ready to ascend into the cavernous Senate dome where the fate of the Galactic Republic had in previous years been decided. For some time now, it had been reduced to an arena where laws were debated before the Emperor laid down a decree. In short, it was a very grand exercise in futility.

Darth Vader swept into the lavishly furnished chamber and stepped into the center of the pod. Mas Amedda was waiting for him, his impassive face betraying none of the impatience that Vader could feel pouring off of him through the Force. He smiled darkly. He delighted in the discomfort of politicians.

As Amedda climbed into the pod, assuming his position of secondary authority at Vader's right hand, he tapped a few controls to begin the pod's ascent. A few unseen mechanisms whirred to life at his touch and the ceiling opened as they were lifted into the enormous Senate chamber.

The chamber was as quiet as a tomb, which was an impressive achievement given that there were tens of thousands of Senators, aides and other representatives occupying the pods. The room would have exploded with sound even if there had been only whispered conversations. There were none. Instead, Vader felt the cacophony of the life teeming in the Force. So many presences blazing around him… and so much corruption and deceit. His jaw tightened and he wished for the millionth time that Palpatine would do away with the ridiculous farce that was the Galactic Senate. These Force presences were a fire he would not regret putting out.

He emerged from his bleak contemplations when he realized that Mas Amedda was announcing him. The Senate had, no doubt, been informed of his upcoming role in their sessions, if the lack of surprise in the atmosphere was any indication. But Vader could sense a great deal of fear, which pleased him greatly. Maybe his presence would cause significant truncation in the endless debates and political stunts that were constantly plaguing the Senate. Which was probably another reason that Palpatine had sent him here, Vader reflected thoughtfully. Warding off a coup and tightening the efficiency of the Senate in one calculated move - brilliant. Once again, Palpatine astonished him with his masterful strategies. A tingle of fear worked its way into his mind as a tiny voice whispered something about the wisdom of going up against someone of such foresight, but he clamped down on the annoying thought immediately and shifted his focus back to the proceedings at hand.

Mas Amedda had fallen silent, and was now looking at him expectantly. Vader could feel the thousands of eyes in the vast room focusing on him. He stood and swept the hood of his dark robe from his head as he addressed the assembly.

"Senators," he began in a supremely disinterested voice, "And representatives. I could say that it is an honor to be among you all today. I could say that I look forward to working with you all for the betterment of our Empire." He swept his eyes across the room, delighting in the unease which was building like a fog all around him. "I could even say that I hope my presence will contribute to an ever-increasing efficiency in our excellent government." Here he paused again, sweeping the room with his icy eyes. The fog of unease thickened. His next words cut through the air like a saber blade.

"But I won't." He locked his fingers behind his back, regarding the "governing" body with undisguised hatred. "I'm here to ensure that your sessions proceed smoothly and _quickly._ And above all I'm here to ensure that a respect and deference to the Emperor is maintained which has been…" he trailed off, considering. "…lacking." He felt the fog burst into plumes of fear. He smiled tightly, savoring the electricity of the Dark Side which had suddenly and powerfully flooded the room. "There will be a new order, Senators and Representatives." His black-gloved fingers were twitching toward the pod controls; he was growing bored. "Your time was appreciated today. I expect that my time will be appreciated in your next session." He finally reached for the button which would cause the pod to descend but impatiently threw a burst of Force energy toward it before he touched it. The pod began to subside into the Emperor's chambers.

Vader felt the air burning with the suppressed emotions of the Senators, even as they remained deathly silent. He could even feel anger coming from a few of them, stabbing in his direction like bolts from a blaster pistol. He latched on to as many of these threads as he could, attempting to trace them back to their sources. If he could identify possible traitors, the Emperor would be quite pleased.

Mon Mothma of Chandrila was the first he identified. No surprise - she was already under surveillance. He released her emotions and focused on the others. The next thread was particularly strong. He concentrated hard on it, pushing himself to find the source before the pod completed its descent and he lost his chance. Almost… almost… he grimaced in concentration. There!

For a moment, he thought he was feeling the white-hot anger of Bail Organa of Alderaan. He was disgusted rather than impressed. Organa was a suspected traitor as well. Would he discover nothing of use today? The pod was within a few meters of ground level now, and he could feel the cooler air seeping up through the overwarm, overbreathed air of the Dome. He was at the point of releasing this last trail as well, when a slight inconsistency caught his attention. His eyes snapped back to the Alderaanian pod. This anger was decidedly _female._ He squinted toward the shrinking figures that made up Alderaan's representatives and searched for its source. Bail leaned back to speak with someone seated behind him, and he caught sight of _her_ at last. Sitting stiffly erect with dark eyes piercing the distance between them, he was momentarily taken aback by a glare every bit as acidic as her anger. The woman was young, slightly built and dressed in muted Alderaanian finery. Her dark hair was swept back and elaborately styled, typical of Alderaan's politicians who frequently came from royal bloodlines. As striking as she might have been physically, Vader was captivated by her anger. How came this _girl_ to harbor such bitterness and hatred? He stared until the pod slid back into its place and the ceiling closed overhead. In his distraction, he had completely lost the other traces.

Mas Amedda regarded him in silence. Vader could almost feel him weighing his options. _Disturb him and risk being choked to death? Or leave him without a word and risk being choked to death?_ He was too distracted to quite enjoy his dilemma. _Who was that?_ he wondered to himself.

Amedda was finally spared his difficult decision when Vader swept off the pod's deck, raising the hood of his cloak as he went. "Do you require anything, Milord?" he called after him. Vader didn't break his stride. "No," he answered coldly. But he knew as he passed out of the Emperor's chambers like a brewing thunderhead, that this wasn't quite true. There was most definitely something he required.

The name of that girl from Alderaan.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! I hope you continue to enjoy this tale... please let me know your thoughts! _

CHAPTER TWO

Two days later, Lord Vader had endured his fair share of irritations and complications due to his new involvement with the Senate. He was, however, no closer to knowing the identity of the Alderaanian girl. Alone in his office at last, Vader scowled out the tinted transparisteel wall and, not for the first time, plotted how he might discreetly find the information he sought. Clenching and unclenching his right fist, he considered his options. He couldn't involve any of the Emperor's spies - the last thing he needed was to alert the Emperor to his interest in the girl. He couldn't have that. There was no telling what the Emperor would think… and Vader knew from hard experience that it was best if the Emperor thought well of you and never suspected even the hint of weakness. He clenched his gloved fist again, glancing at it with an unconscious shudder.

_That was a disappointing display, young Skywalker. Lord Maul, teach him a lesson._

He swallowed past the sudden queasiness in his stomach and relaxed his fingers, listening to the quiet whir of the mechanisms hidden beneath the glove. It was the only artificial limb on his body. Shaking off the memory of a lightsaber slicing through his forearm, Vader dismissed any and all ideas that involved the chance of Palpatine finding out.

_Weakness will not be tolerated, young Skywalker… it is a blemish which must be removed. Cut away, if you will._

He had been building up his own network of spies, but that could be risky as well. If Palpatine found out that he was sending his spies to gather information without Palpatine's awareness, he might suspect worse things than mere curiosity about a girl.

_Weakness, Lord Vader, is a luxury you cannot afford. Kill it now. Or I will._

He wondered if he might discreetly obtain a list of the names of Bail Organa's associates. He could start a preliminary investigation into Organa's possibly traitorous activities since the beginning of the Empire.

_You think you can hide your thoughts from me? Young fool…_

Vader slammed his fists onto his desk, hoping the superficial pain of the action would drown out his fears about Palpatine finding him out. The artificial limb made a much deeper dent than his own fist. He uncurled the droid fingers and stared at them, concealed as they were beneath the glove. His fist ached, but that limb felt no pain. Of course it didn't, he reflected bitterly. Because Palpatine had cut away all the weakness. By removing that piece of Anakin - the name seemed foreign even in his mind - he had strengthened him.

He had killed him.

The last thought echoed through Vader's mind, startling him. Where had that come from? Was he questioning his master? He one day planned to overthrow his master, but that was the way of the Sith. He had never questioned his master's methods before, never questioned the way of the Sith.

Choking on uncertainty, Vader clenched his droid fist until the gears began to squeal in protest. He stood up abruptly, coming to a decision. This girl didn't matter. He wasn't entirely sure why he had been so interested in the first place. She was an object of curiosity and that was all. He would put her out of his mind forever and save his energies for pursuits more worth his while… and more worth the lurking possibility of incurring Palpatine's wrath.

Feeling secure in his decision, Vader swept over to the doors of his Senate office, suddenly feeling cramped by the chamber and the thousands of beings in the halls around him. He needed solitude and meditation. He must clear his mind before the Emperor could even suspect that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. He gestured toward the doors and they unlocked and slid open. Gathering his thoughts, he strode forward into the corridor, turning toward the fastest route to his private landing pad.

He encountered a bit of resistance. There, in his path, was the petite brown-haired creature that had managed to send anger like a bolt of Force lightning in his direction. She was deeply engrossed in a data pad and was rapidly scrolling through a document. Vader simultaneously felt the thrill of fate handing him precisely what he wanted mingled with the tug of impending doom at the corners of his mind. He suddenly heard his master's voice crawling through his memory like a venomous spider.

_Cut out the weakness, young Skywalker._

He took a step in the girl's direction. She came forward, still absorbed in her work.

_Cut out the weakness, Lord Vader…_

Only a moment remained for him to make his choice. So much could hinge on so little.

_Rise, my apprentice. You shall be the epitome of strength. You shall be…_

He made his decision. Feet firmly planted, shoulders squared, he faced the girl.

_…Darth Vader._

The girl from Alderaan looked up from her data pad and saw him too late. Eyes wide, she stumbled directly into Lord Darth Vader.

* * *

Padme hurried through the corridors, dodging Senators, aides, droids, and tourists. She was trying to absorb the details of Lord Vader's new position in the Senate, which were outlined in the Emperor's latest decree. The Imperial Proclamation was currently streaming across the screen of her data pad, which she was fruitlessly trying to read as she avoided the traffic of the corridors. Glancing at the time, she realized with a sigh that she was running late and Bail needed her today. Slipping the data pad under her arm, Padme stepped out of the flow of beings flooding the main corridors and headed for the secure corridors for politicians and staff only. Once inside the much more sparsely populated halls, she resumed reading, trying to suppress exclamations of disgust at the obvious abuse of power.

At Vader's special session of the Senate a few days before, she had practically been seething with anger. What right did he have to be so flippant? One after another, every person in power had failed her and had failed her people. Valorum, Palpatine… and now Vader. And with his attitude, he was shaping up to be the worst of the lot. She exhaled loudly in frustration and returned to reading.

She didn't notice when she wandered into the emptiest hall of the building. She didn't notice when the doors opened just ahead. And she almost didn't notice the very tall, black figure looming up before her. When she did glance up, she was too late to avoid disaster.

One startled cry, several stumbles, and one very embarrassing situation later, Padme found herself seated in Lord Vader's private office with the man himself smirking across the desk at her. She ground her teeth and tried through an act of will not to blush.

"Do you always attack political figures in the hallways, milady?" he began with a very sarcastic tone. Padme did not appreciate it.

"Certainly not, Lord Vader." She glanced at the door, trying to remain cool and unconcerned. "May I go now, milord? I have pressing business to attend to." She silently urged him to let her go. She was in the presence of the second most powerful being in the known galaxy, a man who could do almost anything he pleased with impunity, and she was extraordinarily uncomfortable with it. But she would never let him know that. She forced herself to relax and tried to look slightly bored.

Lord Vader ignored her, leaning forward with a question of his own. "Who precisely are you, Milady?"

_Why do you care?_ she thought desperately, her agitation - and irritation - increasing with every passing moment. Still, she couldn't very well refuse to answer.

"I am Padme Naberrie, an assistant to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan."

Her unrest increased when he seemed determined to continue the conversation. "You're from Alderaan, then? Not royalty, though, I suppose. Not as an assistant."

"I am not from Alderaan, Milord. I am… I am from Naboo." The statement caused her unexpected pain, particularly when the light of understanding dawned in Lord Vader's eyes. She could almost see his thoughts. _Ah, she's from the planet that was destroyed by the Trade Federation…_

She could not bear his knowing scrutiny, or the confusing motives behind his impromptu interrogation. She stood abruptly. He looked at her, utterly unperturbed, but irritated. "I really must be going, Lord Vader. I am needed elsewhere. If you will excuse me." She took shelter in the cold etiquette and fled the office as quickly as dignity would allow.

Once she reached the hall, she rushed toward Senator Organa's chambers, her thoughts flying faster than her feet. _What in the galaxy was that about?_

Back in his office, Lord Vader tapped his forefinger against his lips. He frowned for a moment, then with a great shrug he stood and stared out the window. A flamboyant caravan of vehicles making up a procession for some diplomat or other passed fairly close to his window, but he saw none of it. When he returned to his desk some minutes later, he was unaware that any such event had occurred.

He picked up the data pad within easiest reach and began to read. It was a very dull document - some sort of treaty. The frown didn't leave his face.

* * *

The next day, the incident with Lord Vader had all but faded from Padme's mind. Resolved to forget the entire thing, Padme threw herself vigorously into her work. She was all but welded to her desk throughout the morning, burning through stacks of flimsiplast documents and data pads like there was a bounty on her head. Bail Organa was in and out of the office, casting a few curious glances in her direction. He was kind enough not to mention the sudden change in her demeanor. About midday he threw a friendly "goodbye" and a smile over his shoulder at her along with an admonishment not to work too hard. He had lunch and meetings to take up the rest of his afternoon.

Padme had paperwork. She skipped lunch and continued to work, barely making note of the time. It felt… good to pour herself into something again. She didn't look up when the door slid open an hour after Senator Organa had left.

"Back so soon, Bail?" Padme asked, not looking up. "Did you forget some-" her last syllable died on her lips as she finally raised her eyes. "Lord Vader," she acknowledged, but it came out like a question. Her words would have been better translated as _"Why are you here?"_

Lord Vader, cloaked as always in black, examined the office with bored eyes, before finally focusing on its sole occupant.

"Milady," he said with a fractional nod. He swept forward and settled his tall frame into a spare chair across the desk from her. "Are you occupied?"

An hour later, Padme found herself in Vader's private office – again. She crushed the urge to squirm in discomfort and sat unmoving, her datapad clutched between her hands. Vader was shuffling through the stacks of flimsiplast on his massive desk, and – to Padme's intense annoyance – was making no effort at all to hurry.

Her anxious thoughts drifted back to the bizarre conversation that had led her to these intensely uncomfortable surroundings for the second time.

_"I'll come straight to the point. I need an assistant for the day – and I'd like you." Vader's gaze was very direct._

_Padme swallowed, trying to decide if there was any way to turn down the second most powerful man in the galaxy without being impolite or starting a political incident. She couldn't think of one._

"_I'm afraid I'm very busy today-"she tried, unhopefully. Vader immediately cut her off._

"_Just for the day. I'm sure Senator Organa could spare you if I asked him nicely." There was a certain amount of malice in the word "nicely" and Padme shivered._

_With a growing sense of inevitability, Padme finally said yes. She was extremely confused by his request._

_And even more confused by how relieved he seemed when she finally agreed._

"Ah." Vader's voice pulled Padme's thoughts out of orbit and planted them firmly on the ground. He handed her a stack of documents and gestured to a desk with a terminal that was situated a short distance from his own. "If you could organize those for me. This will be your station." He settled into his chair and began digging through another pile of documents. Padme ignored the whirl of questions in her mind and took the seat he had indicated. The stack of flimsi was a collection of reports which he had apparently had printed instead of using the original holographic format. Why in the galaxy he wanted hard copies, she couldn't imagine. But she filed away her questions and went to work, steadfastly keeping her eyes and her thoughts from Lord Vader.

* * *

Lord Vader couldn't decide if he was angry with himself or merely disgusted. He couldn't comprehend his own motives – and that was never a good thing. He restrained a grunt of irritation and glanced to his right for the thousandth time. Padme Naberrie sat at a tiny desk placed almost in the corner of the enormous office, exuding an air of quiet efficiency. She hadn't looked at him once. Annoyed that he was even aware of that fact, Vader returned his venomous gaze to the desktop which was piled with datapads and flimsiplast and wished that the sheer force of his frustration would incinerate the entire mess. He had brought the girl here on a whim, deciding that if the Force had placed this girl so blatantly in his path, she must be someone worth knowing. And he had never been one to ignore the strange workings of the Force. Not to mention that he was burning with curiosity about this quiet, unimportant girl whose anger had burned so bitterly, searing even his calloused mind. But curiosity was a dangerous thing, he knew. And he suspected himself of something infinitely worse – weakness. The girl – Padme – was very pretty, and he didn't mind looking at her one bit.

Lord Vader ground his teeth, and focused on the fact that he had brought her here in response to a sign from the Force. He had noticed her, intended to ignore her, then she was thrust unexpectedly into his path. It was a sign and that was all. Perhaps she had some connection to his plan to overthrow his master… he had often thought that the Force itself would have to be on his side for any such plan to succeed. Maybe this was the first moment that would begin to tip the scales.

He hazarded another glance in her direction, mentally abandoning any thoughts of productivity. He wondered how to gather some information so he could try to understand the girl's significance. The girl was extremely uncomfortable around him, so she wouldn't spontaneously spill her life story. And he had no intentions of involving his spy network – yet, anyway. Besides, he needed to keep this entire ridiculous situation as quiet as he could. The Imperial Court was a nesting ground for wagging tongues, and if even one of them wagged to Palpatine about Lord Vader and a senator's assistant, his master would be most displeased. Swallowing through the sudden chill that swept over him, Vader continued to ponder in silence.

And then, an idea struck him. An odd one, certainly, but as he considered it, he began to think that it might be the best approach. His eyes flicked to her desk, which was nearly cleared of its contents, and he realized belatedly that he was going to have to invent more tasks for her if he intended to keep her here long enough to finish formulating a plan of attack. Hefting an armful of flimsiplast documents, he replenished her stack of unfiled documents without a word and returned to his desk.

She didn't even look up, and search as he might, he could detect no hint of irritation from her. Where was her brilliant burst of anger from before? He stashed the idle thoughts away and returned to his planning. Every operation, whether covert or a full frontal assault, had to be perfectly planned. And Darth Vader didn't make tactical mistakes.

* * *

Padme was exhausted. It had been such a long, strange day, and she wanted desperately to sleep. But she knew sleep wouldn't come easily when she returned to her dark, empty apartment. It never did. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed quietly.

But not quietly enough. When she glanced at Lord Vader, she encountered a curious gaze. "You're tired," he began without preamble. She opened her mouth to protest, but he waved her unspoken protest away. "Go home. You've done all I needed." She nodded and began to collect her things silently. But the heaviness was coming. The heaviness she always felt when it was time to go home and face the long, sleepless night. It grew like a threatening storm cloud in the distance, filling her with a sharp sense of dread. Out of the corner of her eye, Padme saw Vader stiffen and cock his head, like a dog catching a strange scent. She saw him turn and study her as she stacked papers and swept away the clutter of the day.

"Unless," he began suddenly. His pause stretched on, pulling Padme's eyes to his face. He looked troubled, though she couldn't imagine why. He shook off whatever had momentarily silenced him and went on as though there had been no pause. "Unless you like the opera." He studied her again, apparently content to be enigmatic.

Padme was too tired for games. "I've never been to the Coruscanti Opera." When she had arrived on Coruscant, her heart had been much too full of her own tragedies, let alone any fictional ones.

Vader remained aloof, but in a way that was becoming distressingly habitual, he continued the conversation. "Naboo had a celebrated opera company, I believe," he observed lightly.

Padme blinked away a sudden rush of memories of plush seats, vaulted marble ceilings, and rich music filling the warm night air. "Yes," she said in a voice much softer than she intended. "We did."

"The Coruscanti Opera is performing a Nubian work tonight," he inserted smoothly, completely nonchalant, completely unconcerned. He might almost have been mentioning the weather for all the excitement he projected.

Padme was mystified. "I'm glad," she said quietly, slipping a datapad under her arm as she stood, and starting for the door. But the mention of her home had taken root and was straining against her thoughts of retreat. She suddenly turned back. "What is the opera?"

The look on Vader's face was somewhere between anger and anxiety when she suddenly faced him, but it quickly rearranged itself into detached boredom. "I'm not sure of the title – something about a lost queen-"

"The Bereft Queen," Padme supplied suddenly, her eyes growing distant and unfocused. She remembered the premiere of that particular work. She had been unable to attend the performance as she had been offworld at the time. If she had been at home she would have gone with her mother. Maybe she would even have talked her father into going… her throat ached and she quickly shut the door to those thoughts. She would _not _lose control here, of all places.

"I believe you are right," Vader replied, his eyes never leaving her face. Padme wondered what he was looking for. "If I asked you to accompany me to the performance," he began suddenly, "What would you say?"

Padme's mind turned to water. She had been appropriated as an assistant to Lord Vader, had her lost planet and her lost culture thrown in her face, she was exhausted beyond belief and she just _missed _it all so much…

"I would say yes." She was a little surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. And apparently so was Lord Vader if his slightly stunned expression was any indication. She wasn't even sure _why _she had agreed and she was much too tired to think about it. But the thought of going to her apartment was becoming increasingly unbearable and the thought of seeing a Nubian opera burned like a beacon of hope in the distance. Maybe, for just a little while, she could go home again.


	4. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! It's an enormous encouragement... and it's very much appreciated by me. I love to read your thoughts, so please keep it up! (It also helps to hear that there are people out there enjoying this. It makes me feel less like a lone super nerd... lol.) _

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

Padme shut her eyes and let the music wash over her like a wave of warmth. The powerful but infinitely sweet voice of the famous opera diva rose and filled the vast dome of the opera house. The dome's design fueled the sound, building her voice until it crashed through the entire cavernous theater, finally being absorbed by the rich curtains and carpeting of the private boxes reserved for the wealthy and powerful. The design of the theater was exquisitely beautiful, full of flowing contours and silky fabrics. An enormous round stage sat in the center of the dome, with the orchestra pit arranged around it like a moat around a castle. The stage could be raised, and Padme had heard that it was common practice for the stage to be raised during the climax of each production. For now, it was nestled far below, and brilliantly illuminated by thousands of stage lights hung around the dome like a canopy of multi-colored stars.

Positioned as she was in one of the finest boxes in the theater, Padme had a perfect view. There was no one closer to the stage. A few tiers of private boxes rose up behind her, and behind that, a sea of single seats arranged in rows. The theater was about three quarters full, and the audience was silent. They seemed to be as enraptured with the performance as Padme was herself, although she was hard pressed to believe that they felt anything close to what she was experiencing.

Padme had almost backed down from this little "outing" when she left Vader's office to go home and get dressed. The haze of weariness and the piercing homesickness which had so drawn her to the thought of a Nubian opera faded a little more with each step away from his office, and she had made up her mind to politely refuse the invitation by the time she reached her apartment. But when she stepped inside, with only the dark and the quiet to greet her, Padme felt herself longing to go somewhere – anywhere – to escape the emptiness. The music of her lost world beckoned to her like the promise of a warm embrace, and she found herself putting on an old formal dress, plain but elegant, and waiting eagerly for the moment the music would begin. She pushed aside her trepidation about more time spent with Lord Vader – it was a small price to pay for this experience.

And now, as the strains of Nubian music played by Coruscant's finest musicians filled the air around her, Padme couldn't bring herself to regret coming. Even when she remembered the intense presence beside her. The diva reached a final, impossibly high note and the theater erupted with applause as she ended her aria. Padme finally opened her eyes, swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat, and applauded with the rest.

Lord Vader did not stir. He remained motionless, as he had throughout the evening, never applauding, never examining the program, but frequently, Padme noticed with growing discomfort, looking at her. She gritted her teeth, clasped her fingers tightly in her lap, and focused on breathing evenly until the applause ceased and the performance resumed.

She strove to ignore Lord Vader's suffocating presence and his continuous gaze, trying desperately to lose herself in the music as she had done so often as a child. It was difficult, but she managed to disappear into the story and the music a few times, her soul soaring with the voices of the performers. The story was tragic, as was the case with most Nubian operas, and Padme felt her heart throb in tandem with the characters as they loved, lived, and died in the course of the story. She dreaded the ending she knew would come just as inevitably as the sunset – the queen would be bereft. As she listened to the queen sing another aria describing her emotional turmoil, Padme caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, and she turned slightly. Lord Vader had finally moved. He leaned closer and Padme forced herself not to pull away.

"Are you enjoying the performance?" he whispered.

"Yes," she replied as quickly and quietly as possible, mentally begging him to stop talking. She was trying so hard to forget that he was there. But he was, of course, unaware of that fact.

"Is this story based on Nubian history or is it a merely fictional account?" he asked next. Padme pried her mind away from the duet that had just begun between the ill-fated queen and her lover, and tried to arrange her thoughts. "I believe it is based on a legend," she answered. "There was a story of a queen who gained the throne, the favor of the people – everything she wanted – but she lost the one she loved. So in the end, she had everything, but she had nothing."

"Because she lost what really mattered," he finished, his eyes fixed on the performers playing out their tragic tale. "I see."

Padme blinked and turned back to the performance. The queen kissed her lover goodbye as the music swelled. Padme knew this would be their last scene together, and she felt a stab of sadness. The queen continued her song, gradually drifting toward the center of the stage. The lights were fading. Padme sighed heavily as the stage finally fell into blackness, indicating the end of Act I, and the audience burst into applause. She applauded as well, mentally trying to shake off the grip of sadness that has suddenly and powerfully seized her. Lord Vader did not applaud, but leaned against his hand thoughtfully. The lights rose again, revealing the empty stage and the opera dome began to ring with the conversations of the milling audience, and Padme began to brace herself for the intermission. Lord Vader showed no signs of movement, which meant that she would have to spend the entire interlude with him. She supposed that a faked refresher trip could spare her if need be-

"Is it pleasant to hear the music of your world?" Vader's voice broke into her thoughts, shattering their flow as usual.

She grasped for etiquette and forced a weak smile. "Yes. But it is bittersweet."

"I would imagine so," he muttered. "You are Nubian, yet you work with the Alderaanian senator – how did that come about?" Padme felt that trying to keep up with his conversation was a bit like riding an unruly speeder – she was constantly being jerked around and frequently in danger of being thrown off all together. She ignored the sudden change of topic and answered briefly, but honestly. "I fled Naboo after the invasion. I –" _My family_, she mentally added, "- had friends on Alderaan, and my political training led me to the position as Bail's assistant."

"And you enjoy your work?" he continued without pause.

"Yes," she replied, but felt the familiar shadow cross her heart. Although Padme had made a conscious effort not to reveal anything with her face, Vader must have seen something. He furrowed his brow and studied her in his irritatingly bold way.

"And how do you feel about the Empire?" Padme couldn't help but feel as if she was at the wrong end of an interrogation. She steeled herself, drawing her growing anger around her like a shield. Fine. If he wanted to shoot questions at her like a firing squad, she could play the game as well. She had not been the debate champion at every academy she attended for nothing. She smiled tightly. "The Empire is not perfect, Lord Vader, but I hope that I am helping to remedy that with my work in the Senate." She moved quickly to head off his next question.

"May I ask how you feel about the Empire, my Lord?"

She could almost feel his surprise and stifled a satisfied smile. He seemed irritated by the question, but not angry. "The Empire is a great achievement," he began, "It has brought peace and prosperity like the galaxy has never known. It's a great tribute to Palpatine's wisdom." The latter portion of his statement was delivered flatly and decidedly lacking in conviction. Padme wondered at this, but said nothing. It was his turn.

Vader was surprised when Padme turned the evening into something of a sporting event. Every time he shot a question her way, she answered it smoothly and delivered a question of her own. He would have been impressed that she felt confident enough to behave in such a way toward him if it had not been so extremely inconvenient. He needed to extract as much information from her as possible, and this dual interrogation was delaying him.

The intermission came and went, and still neither of them let up. The flow of questions slowed during the second half of the performance, but it never ended. They were nearing the end of the opera now. The lights and the music were building toward what was sure to be a dramatic climax, and the story was rapidly spiraling toward certain tragedy. Vader paused a moment before posing his next question, observing that Padme was staring with rapt attention at the queen onstage. She was singing of her joy at her upcoming reunion with her beloved, but at the far end of the stage, messengers were approaching, bearing news of his death. A hint of darkness crept into the music, although the queen's melody remained as buoyant as ever. The messengers marched on.

Vader tired of waiting for the inevitable blow to fall, and glanced again at Padme. Her eyes were shining with tears. He lightly reached out with the Force to taste her emotional state; she was overflowing with a barely suppressed anguish. It was possible that she was just extremely empathic, but Vader had much experience with reading people – and with his own intense emotions – and he would stake his fortune on the fact that her reaction was colored with some personal tragedy of her own. He remembered the explosive burst of anger he had felt from her in the Senate dome, and wondered if that was also connected to her personal tragedy, whatever it might be.

He began his next line of questioning. "Did your family go to Alderaan with you?"

"What?" Padme tilted her head towards him, but never looked away from the stage.

"Your family. Where are they now?"

Padme's eyes finally spilled over, and Vader was transfixed. Her anguish had just blossomed into something far more jagged and raw. He felt the sting of her pain faintly, like the sensation of warm water felt through a barrier of glass. He recognized it as surely as someone might recognize an old scar.

Grief.

He realized too late that he should have raised the question more carefully, knowing as he did that she came from Naboo. He should have known the possibility was very high that her family was dead. He could read their deaths in the power of her grief just as clearly as if she had spoken the words. He grimaced and waited for her response, planning how best to salvage the situation. Most people did not react to emotional pain with candor. But once again, Padme surprised him. As the queen below finally learned of her lover's terrible fate, Padme whispered, "No." She swallowed and continued, "They're gone." She stared at the stage as the queen wept passionately, the music swelling around her until Vader could almost feel the sound pressing against the two of them. But before he could retreat from the situation and continue from a different angle, Padme wiped her eyes and turned to him. "What about your family? I've never seen them, even though the press broadcasts pictures of you all the time."

Vader's head was spinning at the speed with which she had turned the tables. This had been the most inefficient interrogation he had ever conducted – what was it about this girl that ruined his equilibrium? But he had no time to consider the question. Padme was still talking.

"Where are the Vaders from?" she asked, glancing at the scene below, before fixing her eyes on him. The stage, Lord Vader observed distantly, was beginning to rise higher.

He frowned and took refuge in staring at the spectacle. "Vader isn't my name," he replied, feeling the inexplicable urge to clarify that Vader was not his name, not his identity. "It's my title." He had had another name once. The name his mother had given him…

The stage had risen to the level of their box, and the lights were spilling golden and violet hues all around them. The queen had begun her final aria, her subjects forming a chorus behind her. They were singing joyfully, unaware of their monarch's anguish. And the miracle of it all was that though the queen's melody had begun with violent melancholy, the chorus filled out the harmonies until the final result was a sound so warm and vibrant that the tragedy was replaced with triumph.

Padme was studying him intently now. He could feel her curiosity pressing against him like a collection of knife points.

The stage finally stopped moving. It was a little ways above them now, still easily visible, still bathed in the amber and violet glow. The queen was singing a powerful note, the chorus swelling behind her. The lights suddenly faded until a single golden light illuminated only the queen. The mighty sound of the chorus receded until the only sound was the queen's voice soaring through the dome. She paused, and the echo took a moment to completely fade. The silence was shocking. And into this silence, she poured her final note like liquid gold. Her tone was suddenly soft and infinitely tragic. Her people had won, but she had lost it all.

Padme chose this moment to break her silence. "Then what is your name?" She finally whispered.

The stage went dark as the final notes of the famed diva dissolved in the air around them. Vader swallowed, suddenly feeling as if the darkness was going to swallow him. But the dome exploded with applause and cheers before he had a chance to fully examine the strange feeling. Any reply he might have made would have been drowned out, so he made none. The lights came back up, and the audience rose to give a standing ovation, Padme included. Vader was glad for the distraction. He was glad for the noise and the excitement, because Padme's attention had been completely removed from him and fixed elsewhere.

He was glad because he had wanted to answer her question.

* * *

Padme pulled her wrap tightly around herself as Vader maneuvered his speeder onto the landing pad outside her apartment. She had insisted she could get herself home, and although a small voice whispered to him that he should avoid being seen with her, Vader wouldn't listen. She shivered in the chilly breeze as he killed the engine and stepped out. Padme reached for the handle, only to have it pulled away before she could reach it. Vader had opened the door. She was surprised by his proffered hand, but she accepted it, and stepped out of the vehicle. She quickly drew her fingers away.

And now she had to take leave of a Dark Lord of the Sith. She vaguely wondered why _that_ had never been included in any of her etiquette books, but pushed the thought away. She smiled faintly and stood tall, aiming for politeness and confidence. "Thank you for the opera, my Lord. It was an enjoyable experience."

"It was… an instructive evening," Vader replied, studying her with a look that fell somewhere between puzzlement and exasperation. Padme wasn't sure how to reply. He smirked rather than smiled, gave a curt nod in place of the customary bow, and swiftly turned and boarded his speeder. He disappeared behind the tinted transparisteel windows, Padme staring after him. The shuttle whirred to life, rising into the cool night air and swerving off to join the nearest river of traffic. The breeze ruffled Padme's hair and the hem of her simple dress. She studied the sky for a moment, noted absently that the lights from passing speeder traffic outshone the distant stars, and finally turned toward the entrance to her apartment. It was dark and lonely, but Padme did not feel the usual ache of emptiness as she tapped in the entrance code and slipped inside. For once, her mind was full of something besides her own emptiness.

She pondered the strange evening distantly as she let down her hair and pulled on a nightgown. The music of the opera was still pulsing in her mind and she caught herself humming some of the tunes more than once. She was humming the queen's first aria, an exquisite love song, as she finally slid into bed. She dimmed the lights and settled into her pillows, and the echoes of the music filled her mind and carried her off into the first pleasant dreams she had experienced in months.

She dreamt she was on Naboo in the great opera house in Theed. She was meeting her family, hurrying as she heard the music begin in the distance, when she caught sight of someone waiting for her.

It was Lord Vader. Dressed in his usual black robes and cloak, he stood beneath a marble archway in the dim light. But in the dream, Padme wasn't disturbed by his presence - she was glad to see him. He turned to her and smiled. His eyes were blue, as she remembered them, but there was something strange about them…

When Padme opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize that it was morning. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes and blinked at the faint light of sunrise. She had slept through the night. She hadn't slept that well in… years. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tried to pull her thoughts together for the day ahead. There were things she needed to take care of – Bail had a few meetings, and there was the usual mountain of paperwork –

Padme's thoughts jarred and ground to a halt when the thought that had been rattling at the back of her mind finally broke loose and came into focus.

His eyes had been different.

They had looked warm. And they were filled with… joy. She shook her head, fighting the creeping sensation of embarrassment that she had even dreamed about this man, and dispelled all thoughts of him – both the reality and the dream. She restricted her thoughts to how grateful she was to have slept so well, undisturbed by either nightmares or the crushing grip of despair. She hurried to get ready, humming to herself, and feeling ready to face the day.

Unbeknownst to her, the Lord Darth Vader had awakened at much the same time and stood silently before his sweeping view of the cityscape. One of his droids, a gleaming protocol droid that was the very latest prototype to be produced by Cybot Galactica, filed into the room, bearing a tray and filling the silence with the quiet whir of its gears. "Your breakfast, Master." It set the tray on a table near the door and began fussing with the dishes and silverware. Vader fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Did you sleep well, Master?" the ultra-polite droid continued, speaking a little louder to be heard over the clink of the dishes. Vader took a deep breath, and for once, did not dread answering that question.

"Yes. Yes I did."

He remained at the window long after his droid withdrew, studying the distant sunrise.


	5. Chapter 4

_The reviews, follows, and favorites mean so much! Thank you to everyone - especially to those who took the time to review. Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter!_

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

"Padme?"

She heard the voice, but her mind was full of schedules and upcoming votes and that stack of flimsy that needed to be dealt with – and somewhere even deeper, Padme was still far away at an opera house, the music washing over her…

"Padme?" the voice was more insistent now, but Padme was studying a particularly baffling chart and simultaneously trying to remember just how the queen's final aria had gone…

The hand on her shoulder startled her, and she whirled around to face a bewildered Bail. "You were… preoccupied," he said with a small laugh, only his intent examination of her face betraying his concern. "And you've been extremely," he paused and scanned her desk, whose usual layer of flimsy and datapads had fallen victim to Padme's energetic attack, "zealous," he finished after a moment. "I've barely been able to get your attention today. Is everything alright?" Padme blinked and tried to shake off the haze that had surrounded her for most of the day. She felt fine – in fact, she felt _good_. She hadn't realized that she had been so far removed from reality between her extreme productivity and her reliving of the night before. The music had been glorious… she pushed aside all thoughts of who her companion had been, and tried to return her nebulous thoughts to Bail's question.

"Oh yes, Bail. I'm fine," she smiled quickly and turned back to her work. But Bail, as usual, proved that his tenacity and perceptiveness were not limited to the political arena. He nodded, but didn't move from his post beside her. "You're in high spirits today," he commented lightly.

"Am I?" she asked distantly, puzzling over a rather obscure message in her inbox from one of Senator Mothma's aides. He was a young Mon Calamari whose command of Galactic Basic was apparently far from ideal. Padme frowned in concentration. Bail was idly cycling through the latest Senate news on his personal datapad and didn't look up as he asked, "So who is he?"

"Who?" Padme responded faintly as she gave up on the message and decided to go and see the struggling aide in person later that afternoon. She was much too distracted to notice that Bail was wearing the triumphant look he donned when he was about to defeat an opponent in a debate. Padme had once compared it to the expression of a Firaxa shark that smelled blood. "The man who has you so distracted, of course," he said smoothly, finally lowering his datapad to look at her fully.

She started and tore her eyes away from the screen in front of her to stare at him in disbelief. Bail grinned triumphantly.

"What in the galaxy are you talking about?" she asked sharply, blushing against her will. She strangled down the quiet fear that he might have heard a rumor about where she had been the night before… and who she had been with. His face revealed no fear or anger, however; all she could read was teasing. She relaxed a little and decided to tell as much of the truth as she could. She had been acting a little strangely, after all, and Bail deserved an explanation.

"I went to the opera last night. They were performing a Nubian work… and it was wonderful." her eyes unfocused and once again she was inside the dimly-lit dome, her heart soaring with the melodies – she blinked and the vision evaporated, leaving only a plain office and Bail's unsatisfied gaze. "I suppose it lifted my spirits," she finished with a smile. Bail opened his mouth, and although Padme was reluctant to lie to him, she couldn't see a way around it in this case. There was no way she could tell him the truth – not about this. "I went alone," she said firmly, turning back to her work with an air of finality. "Now stop being a busybody and let me work!" she finished with good-natured irritation. Bail laughed and plucked the datapad from her hands. "I am properly admonished," he said with a laugh. "But I will have my way about one thing today – you've done quite enough for one day. Take the rest of the day off, Padme," he raised a hand against the protest that was about to burst from her lips. "I insist. You've done enough."

He placed the datapad on her desk – but out of her reach – and returned to his own station near the curving wall of transparisteel. His expression would allow no argument, so Padme made none. "It's good to see you happy again, Padme," he said quietly.

Padme blinked at him. _Happy? _she thought in astonishment. Had she really been so blatantly miserable that even this distracted state seemed like happiness in comparison to the people around her? She mulled over that thought as she absently began to gather her things. Happiness was smiling and laughing with her family every day as a girl. Happiness was swimming in the warm waters of the lake country and coming home to the most delicious meal imaginable. Happiness was preparing for a future in politics with a heart full of hope and the encouragement of your mother and father going with you… this _distraction _wasn't happiness. She wasn't quite sure what it was. She considered as she packed away a few datapads and straightened up her desk. She wasn't sure what to call it.

Because whatever it was… it certainly wasn't misery.

* * *

Lord Vader leaned back in his chair, rubbing the fingers of his natural hand over his temple. He stared hard at the fleeting shadows caused by the passing speeder traffic in the slowly fading sunlight.

The Emperor had decided to begin yet another massive military weapons program, and he needed to summon the Defense and Security Committee to approve the program and its funding. It was all an unnecessary bureaucratic monstrosity which Vader personally had no patience for, but the Emperor continued to insist that the time was not yet right to do away with the Senate, so Vader had no choice in the matter. He had dispatched messages to all the necessary committee members – all but one.

Bail Organa's presence was required. He knew precisely what he needed to do. He needed to send the final message and return to his residence for some meditation. And yet he lingered, considering delivering the message in person. It was unnecessary, despite the fact that it wasn't completely out of his way; he would pass the corridor on his way to his private landing pad. He tapped his mechanical fingers against the polished wood of his desk at a furious pace and frowned. Because he knew exactly what was going on in his traitorous heart.

He wanted to see her.

With an angry grunt, he threw himself out of his chair and glared at the never-ending flow of traffic beyond the window-wall. He sighed and his gaze slid to his desk terminal.

He knew exactly what he needed to do.

* * *

"Goodbye, Bail," Padme called as she shouldered her bag and adjusted her armload of datapads. She made for the door, still wondering what to do with this day off, and feeling delightfully free of the despair that had become her constant companion during unoccupied hours. She was halfway to the door and halfway to a smile when the door suddenly slid open and _he _stepped in.

Padme's feet turned to carbonite, and she almost dropped her stack of datapads. She _did _drop her bag. She gasped and reflexively reached for it, knowing full well that she would be too late to catch it. But the bag didn't fall. It hung in the air about a foot off the ground, as if it had suddenly been caught by an invisible hand. Padme gaped at the bag, before her eyes snapped inevitably to Lord Vader. He was a large dark figure against the light colors of the office, tall and commanding as usual, one gloved hand raised and stretched toward her bag. It took a few moments, but she finally realized that _he _had caught it. She looked back and forth between the Sith Lord and the unnaturally floating satchel, gaping like a fool.

Vader stepped closer until his fingers closed around the strap. Gravity seemed to take hold of it again, and no longer suspended, the bag swung from his hand. "Your bag, milady," he said flatly. He smirked as she stared. Finally gathering her wits, she took the strap and slid it onto her shoulder. "Thank you, Lord Vader," she forced out, wondering why her thoughts had suddenly splintered and thrown their fragments into the farthest corners of the room. She swallowed and glanced at Bail. He was staring at Lord Vader as if he were a Krayt Dragon who had appeared without warning. She saw him steady himself and the calm mask of the politician slid into place before Vader looked at him. Somehow, Padme felt that despite Bail's expertise at projecting a calm façade, Vader had not missed his trepidation.

"The Emperor has a new project in need of approval," Vader began without preamble. "There is to be a special meeting of the Defense and Security Committee tomorrow morning and your presence is required."

"Of course," Bail said smoothly, completely unruffled – at least on the surface. "What time?"

Vader rattled off the particulars, and Bail made a show of noting the time and location. "If that's all, Lord Vader," he began with the air of a busy man. Vader gave one of his slightly feral grins. "For you, yes. For her," he turned to Padme suddenly, "perhaps not."

Bail's mask slipped a little, and Padme saw confusion cross his face. "What-" he began before Vader cut in.

"I could use some assistance with a few tasks before the day is over. Would you lend me your assistant?" Padme was too shocked to be angry. The same was not true of Bail.

He began to look livid. "Lord Vader, this is the second time you have _appropriated _my assistant, and I really must insist-" he fell silent under Vader's sudden, withering gaze. But Bail was no coward. He opened his mouth to continue.

"It's alright, Bail."

Both men turned to look at her. She focused on Bail, trying to let him see that she meant what she said. "You've given me the rest of the day off anyway. I might as well make myself useful. I don't mind," she added, holding his gaze to assure him. Bail was staring at her, most likely trying to decide if she meant what she said or if she was merely trying to spare him a fight with someone much more powerful than himself. Vader was studying her with interest.

"Very well," Bail said after a long moment. "But Lord Vader, might I recommend that you acquire your own assistant as soon as possible? I'll not have my assistant overworked-" Padme waved him off. "Please don't worry about that. I'll be fine. And I'm sure that Lord Vader will have his own assistant very soon – am I right, my Lord?" she turned to Vader expectantly.

"Of course," he agreed in a clipped tone. "That's settled then," she said firmly, turning back to Bail. Lord Vader turned and swept out of the office, waiting just outside the doorway. "I don't mind," she repeated reassuringly to Bail before turning to follow.

Vader immediately turned and started down the hall. She rushed to catch up with his long strides, not feeling at all irritated by the sudden extension of her day's work. She realized belatedly that she had been telling the truth – she didn't mind. She hurried down the hall beside him.

* * *

They entered the familiar office and Padme settled into the terminal she vaguely thought of as hers. Vader quickly supplied a large stack of flimsy and she set to work. Vader stationed himself at his desk and they sat in silence. Padme could not see what he was doing, and did not turn to find out.

The only sound for several minutes was the muted scrape of the flimsy sheets as she rifled through the stack and the distant sound of speeder traffic. Padme did not realize that she had been humming to herself until Vader's voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Is that from the opera?"

She blinked away her concentration, returning to the office with a sharp _snap._ His chair was swiveled to face her. "Hmm? Oh. Yes." She scanned the headings of the next flimsy and continued distractedly, "It was the love aria from Act One."

"Was that your favorite piece?"

"No," she responded immediately. "It's beautiful, but I loved the final chorus best. The sad songs are the best, wouldn't you agree?" She kept her focus squarely on her work and missed Vader's furrowed brow. He studied her for a moment and leaned forward to make another remark when the desk holocom chimed loudly, a note of artificial cheer in its ring. Vader glared, and slapped the answer button with more force than necessary. A pale blue hologram shimmered and resolved into the shape of a protocol droid. "Yes?" The word was as much a warning as an inquiry. "Master," it began in a peculiarly self-important tone that only protocol droids could achieve. "You have received a message from the Emperor." After a moment's pause, the droid added in a slightly more anxious voice. "You requested that I inform you immediately of any message from His Majesty, did you not?" Padme couldn't tell if the hologram was flickering more than it should, or if the droid was shifting nervously.

"Yes," Vader muttered. "Very good, Master," the relieved droid replied. "Good-"

Vader cut the transmission abruptly and stood, suddenly looking a little gray despite the sunlight pouring through the transparisteel wall behind him. "I will return shortly." He marched toward the door with the air of a man holding his head high as he's led to his own execution. Padme watched in amazement until the doors hissed shut behind him. She allowed herself a moment to wonder why Lord Vader should look so ill at the thought of the Emperor's message (or was it the Emperor himself who had caused the reaction?) before she returned her eyes and her attention to the flimsy before her.

She worked for nearly an hour before Lord Vader reappeared, looking irritable. He rolled into the room with all the thunder and electricity of a thunderstorm, and rumbled up to Padme's desk. "I'm sorry that took so long. I see you've kept busy."

Her desk was empty. "Yes, Lord Vader. I think you'll be satisfied with the work I've done." She began to reach for her own stack of datapads and flimsy as he drifted toward his desk without inspecting _any _of the work she had done. She arranged her collection of documents and datapads in her arms and stood to leave. She made it halfway to the door before she turned, suddenly feeling very bold.

"You never answered my question."

He was staring at the city through the curving window-wall, his hands clasped behind him. "What question?" he answered, half-turning to look at her.

"What's your name?"

Darth Vader stared at the slight woman before him, her arms filled with the paraphernalia of office work, as she casually asked him for information that was a highly guarded secret. He felt the same urge from the opera house, the push to just _tell her _and he couldn't understand it at all. He had gone out of his way to find out who _she _was, what _her _role in the upcoming struggle might be, and fate laughed at him, forcing him out of his office where he had intended to continue his interrogation, and returning him just in time to face _her _question. And to make matters worse, he felt the answer threatening to burst out of him without his consent. She was the first person to ask him that question in many, many years. Everywhere he went, his title and reputation went before him like a long, dark shadow. But Padme Naberrie asked him what his name was as if she wasn't sure of his identity, wasn't convinced of who he was.

He spoke and decided at the same time, and it felt remarkably like falling off a cliff. "Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

Padme blinked and smiled faintly. "That's a wonderful name."

He stared at her without replying. Padme glanced away from the unreadable gaze, and he could faintly sense her embarrassment. She needn't have felt that way - it was he who was now exposed.


	6. Chapter 5

_I probably sound like a broken record, but thank you to everyone who reviewed! Your words and just the fact that you're enjoying this means so much. You are all amazing. Everyone who has followed is amazing too... maybe you would like to review as well? ;) I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Let me know your thoughts. :) _

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

_Anakin Skywalker._

The name rippled in the room as though he had detonated a sonic weapon instead of merely speaking. But then, Padme supposed, words could sometimes be the most dangerous weapons of all.

The weight of his revelation descended on her shoulders, and Padme busied herself with rearranging her armload of supplies in order to avoid Lord Vader's _(Anakin Skywalker's _she thought in amazement) piercing look. The moment of intimacy faded enough for her to speak, and she immediately decided to retreat. "Well, if you won't be requiring my assistance any further today-"

"There is - there is something else," he interrupted suddenly, stumbling over his words for the first time in their brief and strange acquaintance.

Padme blinked. "Yes, Milord?"

He winced minutely, although Padme could not fathom why, and passed her on his way to the door. "Follow me," he said. His eyes fell on the datapads filling her arms. "Leave those here." He indicated her station across the room.

Curious now, Padme did as requested and followed him out of the office.

She trailed behind Lord Vader's long strides until he finally turned and waited for her, looking amused rather than impatient. She caught up, and he slowed his pace to better match hers. The sun was warm through the panels of transparisteel windows to her left, and she found herself enjoying the walk. They had covered almost half the distance back to Bail's office with Lord Vader remaining as unreadable as a blank wall and showing absolutely no signs of enlightening Padme to her duties.

"More filing today, Milord?" she finally pressed.

He didn't reply for a moment. The hallway ahead split off into three passages, the center passage leading further into the Senate Building where the offices of the senators and representatives were situated, the right branching off toward landing pads and the left toward public transportation and a series of enclosed walkways connecting much of the political districts of the city. Vader veered suddenly toward the left.

Padme halted, staring after him in bewilderment. "Where are we..." she started, trailing off and gesturing vaguely, as though the answer would appear before her. Vader finally turned to face her.

"No more filing," he answered smoothly. "I have something else in mind for the rest of the day... that is, if you would care to join me." He waited expectantly.

Padme was suddenly lost. "What?" she managed, all her practiced eloquence failing her.

"Do you like art?" Vader asked, taking a step towards her and away from the leftmost corridor. "There's a new exhibit opening in the Imperial Gallery, and I have an open invitation to a private viewing before the official opening."

"What is the exhibit?" Padme stalled, still struggling to find her footing.

"Paintings of lost worlds," Vader supplied. "Many are quite ancient, and some are of unknown origin, but there are a few more modern pieces. Naboo is represented, of course," he added in a softer tone, studying her face. Padme wasn't sure what he was looking for.

She considered. "Very well, Lord Vader. Lead the way."

He smiled briefly, and turned back to the hall that would lead them out of the maze of offices, into the connecting walkways, and eventually, she supposed, to the Imperial Gallery. She fell back a pace or two and studied Lord Vader's back. _What are you doing? _She wondered at him - and at herself. But she followed his unfaltering steps.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for either.

* * *

The grandest wing of the Imperial Gallery was situated directly adjacent to the Senate Building, designed as it was to serve as a venue for glittering receptions and the occasional interplanetary conference. Comprised of many elegant and spacious theaters, dining halls, and the actual galleries, the private wing of the Imperial Gallery was both beautiful and expensive, a much-lauded jewel of the Coruscant skyscape, and always one of the most recommended landmarks for visiting ambassadors. Separated from the extensive public sections of the Gallery by floors and floors of maintenance rooms, storage space, and the curator's offices, the private floors were accessed through security lifts and a few walkways that funneled foot traffic directly from the most secure portions of the senate building. Nevertheless, there were guarded checkpoints along the way. One of the advantages of Lord Vader's company was that Padme didn't have to show her ID even once on the trek; she was allowed past all security checkpoints by his presence beside her. The burgeoning sense of excitement about exploring a gallery without the usual crowds distracted her from her vague discomfort with Vader's unquestioned power.

A hunched human woman with wispy white hair met them at the doors to the gallery proper, wringing her hands unconsciously. "L-lord Vader," she greeted with just a tiny stutter. The ID badge she wore proclaimed that she was a curator by the name of Lidia. She smiled nervously.

"The checkpoint guards informed me you were coming. What can we do for you today, my Lord?"

Vader had the gift of being intimidating without effort, even without desire. "I received an invitation to tour the Lost Worlds Exhibit. I would like to take you up on that invitation."

Lidia was already nodding. "Of course, of course," she said in a reedy voice. "I would be happy to take you there myself, and lead you in a tour-"

But Vader was waving away her suggestion. "That will not be necessary. Simply point us in the right direction and we will be on our way."

"But thank you so much for offering," Padme interjected, trying to calm the poor woman's obvious nerves.

Lidia nodded unhappily (despite her palpable relief) and led them through the sliding double doors to the dim interior of an empty foyer that looked as though it would be grand if the chandeliers overhead were powered on. Shadowed statues surrounded the circular room and a single fountain gurgled in the center. Deactivated hologram projectors danced in the rippling water. Padme wondered what sort of display would erupt if they were turned on. Lidia led the way down an unadorned corridor that was clearly intended for use by the staff rather than the public. They saw nothing but walls and closed doors until she finally halted before a door with an _OPENING SOON _display flickering overhead. "Here we are!" She tried for a cheerful voice, but missed by a wide margin. Vader turned away.

"Thank you," Padme replied as Lidia nodded and swiped an access key. She hurried away as the doors hissed and slid apart.

Cool air seeped through the doorway, and Padme could not quite help her eagerness to step inside. She stepped soundlessly onto the woven carpeting that covered the floors, swallowing up all footsteps and dampening conversation. The cavernous room was designed like a maze, paintings suspended from walls that began a few meters away, twisting and turning out of sight. Light pooled around each of the visible artworks, and bled away into shadow between them. The sparse light did not reach the ceiling, which was high above and invisible in the shadows.

"Where would you like to begin?" He asked, clearly amused by whatever expression she was making. She was too distracted to be quite sure what that expression was. His voice sounded muted in the new surroundings and Padme thought that there must be padding on the ceiling to dampen the echoes. Searching subconsciously for the Nubian portion of the exhibit, she couldn't spare enough thought to be embarrassed as Vader studied her face.

"There," she said breathlessly, pointing toward the second nearest entrance to the maze, having spotted a glimpse of waterfalls and trees. Vader gestured for her to lead the way.

The paintings were not Nubian - they were from an unknown world and bore clear signs of being quite ancient - but they were beautifully executed, and the simplicity and clarity of the brushwork reminded her of the art galleries she had visited as a child. She didn't speak much as she read the holographic information floating beside each work, detailing the design and suspected origin of each piece. She thought distantly that perhaps she was being rude, but when she came back to herself enough to consider the question, she saw that Lord Vader was reading the descriptions as carefully as she was and seemed engrossed. He wasn't speaking much either. Padme smiled.

They spent at least an hour wandering through each twist and turn of the maze, discovering new planets at every turn. Desert sunsets, tropical lagoons, and sparkling snowy landscapes met them, and Padme felt far away from Coruscant and its futilities. She was almost glad that they had not found the Nubian section first; it would have made her entirely too sad. She found that she was enjoying herself.

After an hour and a half of floating between worlds, they came to Naboo.

Padme came crashing down. The weight she had not realized she was carrying settled back into her shoulders with backbreaking force, and she clenched involuntarily. The maze opened up into a sort of courtyard in the middle, the paintings hung along the rounded walls, benches facing them from the center, a fountain in their midst. It was a tiny recreation of one of the greatest fountains in Theed, a doll's house imitation of one of her favorite places. She couldn't breathe.

She felt Vader's hand on her arm. "Are you alright?" he asked, turning to face her, concern written in his ice blue eyes. She was floundering, but her extensive diplomatic training formed words for her when she couldn't find any. "I'm sorry, my Lord. If I could just have a moment?" Overwhelmingly thankful for all those etiquette classes from her days in the Legislative Youth Program, Padme drew back and focused on breathing, shutting her eyes and drifting away from the pain. When she could feel only cool emptiness in place of the jagged heat of grief, she opened them.

Staring at the painting before her, a landscape of the Lake Country using a wealth of pastel colors, she felt nothing. But that wasn't quite true - she could feel Vader's overwhelming presence behind her. He regarded her in silence and Padme began to dread what would inevitably come next. The pity speech. All the_ I'm-so-sorry's_ and _I-can't-even-imagine's _would flutter around her like flies around a carcass, drawn to death and underlining its presence. She waited, determined to be polite. The colors of the Lake Country blurred together before her and she blinked. She was so very tired.

Vader moved, silently stepping up beside her. "So this is the Lake Country?" he began quietly, as though she had not just skirted the edge of a breakdown in front of him. "Would you tell me about it?"

Padme was flooded with the feel of sunlight above and warm water beneath as she floated in one of the many lakes, fish nibbling at her feet as she walked in the shallows looking for shells, moonlight cutting a diamond path across the black water as she sat on the terrace at night... "It was beautiful," she started quietly. "This painting doesn't do it justice, although the pastel colors do capture the magical quality, I suppose." She smiled and laughed distantly. "It was the happiest place I have ever known."

Vader listened as she went on, speaking quietly of sacred memories and forgetting all about the pity she had expected. It never came.

But the memories did, more easily than they ever had. Vader and Padme laughed together as she led the way through the gallery, a story for every painting. Sometimes two.

They were nearing the beginning of another planet's display when Vader's comm chirped. He made a sound of annoyance, and plucked it from his belt. "Excuse me," he grunted, sweeping out of the Nubian courtyard and disappearing into the maze. She heard his comm crackle to life, but the sound-dampening effects of the gallery swallowed up his voice. Padme studied the last set of paintings, a series of landscapes filled with flowers, feeling lighter than she had in some time. She found herself looking at the opening Vader had disappeared through, wondering when he would return. She tried to force herself to focus on the artwork instead.

The flowers were a riot of color and they reminded her strongly of the fields she had played in as a child. She could almost smell the heady scent of the natural gardens. Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the last painting, where the artist's signature was nestled between a clump of flowers and the water's edge._ Palo N._, it read.

She had only registered the name and all its significance when Vader reappeared, looking distantly angry. "I'm very sorry, Milady," he began, coming to stand beside her again. "My presence is required back at the Senate."

Padme shrugged. "We leave for a few hours, and everything falls apart."

Vader laughed sharply. "So it would seem. I will happily see you back to the Senate, unless you would like to remain here."

"No, that is quite alright. I would just as soon return with you and avoid all the security hassles," she said, smirking at him.

Vader offered an exaggerated bow. "I am always happy to be used as a security bypass by beautiful women."

Padme laughed and they left the Nubian section, weaving their way out of the maze in companionable silence. Padme felt lighter with every step.

A young employee was standing beside the main doors of the gallery when they emerged from the maze, and he stood up straight and stepped forward when he spotted them. Padme could see his curator's badge even from a distance. He seemed young for a museum curator. "Lord Vader," he said with a surprisingly confident voice. "I am here to escort you both back to the entrance when you are ready."

Padme froze. That voice...

Vader nodded and stepped forward to follow the young man with brown hair who was already leading the way.

Padme knew without seeing that his eyes were a warm brown and he had a single freckle on his left cheek. "Palo?"

The curator halted with a jerk and turned back. "Yes, Milady?" He studied her curiously as she stepped out into the light of the hallway. His eyes instantly went wide.

"Padme!"

He grinned and rushed past Lord Vader to embrace her. "It's been years, Padme! I heard you were alright on Alderaan..."

"I never heard anything about you!" she interjected. "No one knew what had happened to you..."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I was in the camps for a while, but some of us escaped. I bummed around the galaxy for a time, but it seems that my art school connections weren't all for nothing. I got a job here not long ago... They're letting me oversee the Nubian part of the Lost World Exhibit - did you see it?"

"Yes! It's beautiful, Palo. And your work was beautiful."

"Thanks, Padme. It means a lot that you got to see it." He was smiling at her like the old days, and she felt warm and cold all at once. Lord Vader was standing just beyond their impromptu reunion, arms crossed, expression inscrutable.

"I've got to go, Palo. Lord Vader has an important meeting to get to, and I really have to get back to the Senate too."

"Right!" Palo's face finally registered the fact that Lord Vader and Padme had been in the gallery together, and the levels of confusion and concern that lit up his expression would have been humorous if Padme hadn't suddenly felt so ill. He turned to Lord Vader, his manner all business, and apologized for the delay as they resumed their march to the entrance.

Lord Vader stayed behind to walk with Padme, lifting an eyebrow at her as they entered the dim foyer.

"I'll tell you in a minute," she whispered, her voice echoing loudly in the domed - and not sound-dampened - space. She winced and Vader actually chuckled.

The doors opened to the first natural light they had seen in hours, and Palo stood aside. "Thank you for your interest, Lord Vader. It was an honor having you here," he offered, sounding so polite and professional, and not at all like the wild-haired boy with a goofy sense of humor she had known. She spotted a hint of that boy when he turned to her to add, "It was wonderful to see you, Padme. We should catch up sometime."

"Of course, Palo! Look me up, and we'll talk." She smiled at him, and with a bow to Lord Vader, the too-young curator vanished inside.

Padme felt Lord Vader's gaze before she saw it. "Well?" He asked immediately.

"I knew Palo back on Naboo," she began. "We were both in the Legislative Youth Program a long time ago."

Vader nodded, but Padme thought he looked vaguely dissatisfied. They walked back at a brisk pace, Vader wearing a preoccupied expression the whole way.


	7. Chapter 6

_Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it more than you know. You guys are awesome. :)_

_And now, on with the story. This is a chapter that bounces around between many viewpoints, and (hopefully) the plot thickens... _

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

After a walk blissfully unencumbered by security checkpoints (Vader simply nodded at the security guards who gulped while saluting), Lord Vader and Padme Naberrie returned to the quiet, cool halls of the Senate Building. The hum of speeder traffic and the buzz of conversation was distant and muffled; they were almost alone in the midst of a hurricane of life forms. The fork in their paths came too quickly.

Padme stared down the corridor that would lead her back to Bail's office if that's where she wished to go. She did, after all, have the rest of the day off. The hallway loomed and she could feel the calm and the colors that had surrounded her in the museum swirling away from her and draining into it. She felt cold.

Observing her tiny shiver, Vader finally broke the impassive silence that had settled over them. "You don't have to go back yet."

"What?" said Padme distantly, shaking off her dark visions in order to meet his eyes. They regarded her with laser-like intensity. "Wait for me," he continued after a moment. "I will take care of things here, and we can continue our conversation. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Padme answered honestly, before she had time to consider whether a lie would be more prudent. It was a habit she had incurred in his presence, and it alarmed her. Diplomats knew the value of words and the value of controlling them. She winced at herself, trying for a blank face.

Vader didn't look at her false expression; he studied her eyes. "Good," he replied. "We will eat shortly. You may wait in my office if you wish." He gestured for her to precede him down the corridor running away from the Alderaanian offices. Her eyes traced the sleek paneling and blank walls that led to Lord Vader's office. The light seemed brighter down that way. Holding on to the warm feeling in her chest like a lifeline, she stepped ahead of Vader and together they walked to his office.

With a few quick words and a promise to hurry, Lord Vader left Padme in his cavernous office alone. The silence was pressing in so large a room - she was almost afraid to speak lest her voice echo. The office was richly furnished but sparsely decorated, only a model of some sort of TIE fighter adorned the broad desk, which was mostly covered in holodiscs and flimsiplast documents. The most beautiful feature of the room was the great window-wall that curved around the rear of the office, letting in a flood of natural light and a breathtaking view of the cityscape on the horizon. The spires of Coruscant glittered distantly and Padme moved forward until her fingers were pressed against the transparisteel, trying not to smudge the surface as she craned to see as far as she could. It was beautiful. What a view he had...

She glanced behind her at the office that was almost empty of personal touches. She turned to run a finger over the wing of the TIE model resting on his desk - the only personal artifact she could see. Just who was this man, this Lord Vader? It was possibly too late to be wondering that, since he seemed so bound and determined to spend time with her... and she seemed incapable of refusing such time. She frowned at herself and turned back to the window-wall. The sunlight was beginning to slant a little lower through the forest of skyscrapers.

The doors hissed behind her and she almost felt Lord Vader's peculiar energy enter the room. "Now that that unpleasant business is out of the way, shall we go to dinner, Milady?" He sketched a bow when she turned to him. As he straightened up, the failing sunlight glowed in his dark blonde hair and warmed his icy blue eyes. He was, Padme reflected distantly, strikingly handsome. She swallowed.

"It would be a pleasure, Lord Vader," she replied, and stepped forward.

* * *

Davlo Narik was under severe stress. Of course, with his job, he wasn't the slightest bit surprised; extreme stress was to be expected as a server in the highly prestigious Coruscant Skies Restaurant. He felt as though his feet had barely touched ground since he'd arrived for his day-long shift. The usual crowd of senators, representatives, planetary governors, and the upper crust of Coruscanti society were filling the tables and he could see that the foyer was filled with more patrons. On bad days, even a reservation didn't guarantee that you could avoid wait time. Just then, a harried-looking hostess led a uniformed man with a severe face toward the private rooms in the back. The uniform proclaimed that he was a Grand Moff. Davlo bit back a sigh. A Grand Moff would be one of the most powerful people in the galaxy, overseeing entire systems, and usually answerable only to the Emperor himself. And the super rich and ultra powerful never had to wait. He pulled his attention from the milling wait line and rushed to distribute his tray of drinks. He had at least ten tables of patrons and he was juggling several food and drink orders in his head-

"Davlo!"

The manager appeared beside him, catching his shoulder. Davlo groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn't made any mistakes or gotten a customer complaint... he couldn't afford to lose this job. Apartments on Coruscant weren't cheap, and he really didn't want to have to leave the Core systems and live with his family in the Outer Rim-

"Davlo, I need you. We have a... special guest."

Orders and drink requests and questions jumbled and crashed in his overtaxed mind and before Davlo could get a word out, the manager continued, a touch nervously, "Amie's not here. I need you."

Davlo's chest tightened and his heart pounded. Amie was the senior server and handled a very select clientele. A very powerful clientele.

A very dangerous clientele.

He swallowed. "Who?" he managed, finally.

"Lord Vader."

Davlo felt dizzy and every other thought tumbled from his mind. The sunlight streaming through the windows on every side suddenly felt too warm, and the scents of soup and meat and warm bread suddenly made him nauseous. He knew the stories about Lord Vader as well as anyone. He had seen Amie's face blanche on the rare occasions when Vader showed up in a dinner party of government officials. It was rare... but if Amie's reaction was anything to go by, it wasn't pleasant. He wished fervently he was anywhere but here.

The manager looked frightened himself, but he looked at Davlo with determination. Davlo collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to lose this job. "Okay," he said, wincing at the waver in his voice.

"Good," said his highly relieved manager, clapping him on the shoulder. "You get back there. I'll get someone to cover your section right away."

And he was gone.

Davlo's feet felt heavy as he wove through the sea of tables, brushing past very important people from all over the galaxy. He made it to the edge of the main dining room and followed the window-wall until he came to the door marked _Private_. He quickly scanned his senior employee ID card and stepped through when the door slid aside. He stepped into a hallway with deep, luxurious carpeting and paintings on the walls. The door closed behind him with a dull _thud_. He swallowed, still feeling slightly ill.

He forced himself down the hall, passing rooms on each side, some filled with small parties of government officials and some quiet and empty, until he came to the grand suite at the end of the hall. The door slid aside, and he forced his fear into the farthest corner of his mind and focused on keeping his voice from shaking.

"Welcome, Lord Vader," he began, relieved when he sounded almost normal. He moved closer to the table, which was a fair distance from the door, his steps silent on the plush red carpet. The room was elegant in the extreme, with gold gilding on every chair and gold filigree designs inlaid into every surface. The designs were all variations of the Imperial crest, of course. The table was made of dark wood, and the Imperial crest, a circle containing a six-pointed gear, gleamed against the wooden backdrop. The walls were a creamy color, but they were mostly hidden behind enormous canvases painted with scenes of the Empires greatest triumphs. Empire Day, the day of the Empire's birth, was especially prominent, being situated behind the head of the dining table. The painted version of Emperor Palpatine, holding his hands aloft and looking very noble as he addressed the Senate, was just over Lord Vader's shoulder. The Empire's second-in-command was seated tensely in the gilded chair, his elbows on the table, his fingers interlocked and his chin resting atop them. His brows were furrowed and his icy blue eyes were fixed on the only other person at the table, a petite brunette dressed in a style that Davlo thought might be Alderaanian. "Milord." Davlo drifted up beside Vader's chair and dipped his head in a respectful bow. "How may I serve you?"

It took Vader a moment to notice him, but when he finally spoke and ordered, he did so in a clipped tone and didn't look at him once. The woman glanced at her menu and ordered as well.

Davlo retreated with another bow. He gulped in a relieved breath when he finally made it back to the hallway. His forehead furrowed - who was the woman? He had never heard of Lord Vader coming here with a woman... he had never heard of Lord Vader coming for anything less than a government dinner party of the utmost import. He wasn't exactly the most sociable official in the galactic government. Davlo shook away the questions; he couldn't pause for long. He rushed off to the kitchens, forcing his thoughts to the far corner of his mind for later consideration. For now, he had to focus on surviving. He was going to oversee the preparation of this food himself. There would be no mistakes.

The next hour passed with torturous slowness, but Davlo's nerves calmed with every moment he spent in the private dining room. Lord Vader hadn't even noticed him. He didn't seem to be noticing anything except the woman whom he called "Padme." Davlo filed that information away. He was desperately curious about what was going on now - Lord Vader had barely stopped looking at her. Their conversation had been very quiet and had always stopped when he drew near with a drink or a plate of food, so he had no idea what they were saying. But it seemed like casual talk, and they even laughed once or twice. Lord Vader had laughed - he _had_ to tell the rest of the staff about this.

The meal was wrapping up, and Davlo was bringing the final course of the meal, a very popular dessert that was a signature dish of their top chef. In just a few minutes Vader and his companion would leave and he could breathe without feeling like there was a bantha on his chest. Davlo couldn't wait.

He laid out the decadent dessert that looked as much like an art exhibit as an edible dish, and retreated to the corner until he was needed. They ate, chatting quietly and even exchanged a few smiles. Davlo puzzled over the girl's identity in silence.

He hurried forward a few minutes later when they finally stood, and brought the woman's cloak, holding it for her. Vader smoothly plucked it from his hand and held it for the woman himself. Davlo tried not to gawk. He must have failed, because Vader glared at him. Davlo swallowed and stared at the floor as he nervously wished them both a good day.

The woman fastened her cloak and moved toward the door with Vader. Her eyes trailed across the canvases on every wall. She stopped quite suddenly and leaned toward a landscape depicting a distant battle. She suddenly turned back to him. "Excuse me - can you tell me who painted these?"

Davlo started, but he had worked hard to know facts like these so he would look good when he had applied for this job. He smiled nervously, trying not to look at Lord Vader who had taken a step back in their direction. "Of course, milady. These paintings were commissioned from an artist named Palo Neruta."

Her eyes went wide and a tiny smile crossed her face. "From Naboo?"

"I believe so, milady."

"Thank you, Davlo."

Still smiling, she moved toward the door again, Vader standing aside for her and then following in her wake. Davlo saw him lean toward her and say something quietly. He could just catch her reply. "Yes, that was him earlier today..." They disappeared from sight.

Davlo stared after them. He had expected to feel relief, but he was much too distracted to think of that now. Because as the pair had left, Davlo had noticed something odd. The look on Vader's face when Padme spoke of Palo had been very like jealousy.

What in the galaxy had he just witnessed?

* * *

Lord Darth Vader wove his private speeder in and out of traffic lanes in frustration. The sun had set long ago, and the sky had come alive with the twinkling lights of speeders in every direction. This particular river of traffic was flowing at a maddeningly slow speed and he clenched his good hand, gritting his teeth against the delay. He needed to get to his private chambers to meditate.

The hazy peace of spending so long in Padme's presence had slowly faded away as his speeder pulled him further and further from her apartment. He felt the familiar tug of his duties to the Senate and the tingles of fear that stalked him every day that he continued planning to kill his master. With backbreaking weight, reality rushed in to fill the vacuum the young senator's assistant had left when she stepped out of his speeder. What was he doing?

Honks started somewhere up ahead as a speeder made a highly illegal maneuver to desperately flee the traffic jam. Vader sympathized entirely.

He couldn't control this ridiculous traffic anymore than he could control his own actions, it would seem. He had wanted to find out about this girl, that was all. And here he was, distracted by thoughts of her delighted expression when she talked of the Lake Country and her childhood. Such sweet memories for her... and now for him too. He knew nothing of that kind of childhood happiness (whispers of a memory surfaced: his mother kissing his cheek and bringing him scrap parts for the droid he was building... he pushed them aside).

Emotion, weakness, danger. That was the progression of things. Control was vital in dealing with emotions, and as he sat in the worsening traffic jam, glaring at the nearby speeder lights and distant stars beyond them, he knew he had none in this matter.

If he had a crippling defect, it was a lack of control. His fears had always been out of control and his every emotion burned until it incinerated him - a fact Palpatine encouraged to a point, but rebuked when it inevitably wreaked havoc. The only safe emotion was anger, for at least that could be translated into power through the Dark Side. Control. He could walk away from this, recognizing the mistake it already was, having led him to risk deceiving Palpatine... and recognizing the even greater mistake it would become if he were to continue.

This girl (images of sad brown eyes and the gentle, shapely planes of her face swam in his minds' eye and warmed him inwardly) had already distracted him enough. He could feel himself tipping on the edge of an abyss and he must step away now or risk destruction. He had his destiny to consider. The power he had fought and schemed and deceived for was finally at hand. If he could be patient and controlled just a little longer, he would have finally earned the right to be the guiding force in his own life, for the first time in his memory. He just had to walk away.

He grimaced and jerked the steering shafts of his speeder, tearing out into the empty space above in a very illegal and highly dangerous move. But the Force remained as placid as a still lake, whispering nothing to him of danger as he wheeled chaotically towards his home, so he pressed insistently on the accelerator as the engine whined.

He set the speeder down on the landing pad of his private residence and disembarked rapidly, powering down the speeder with a backwards pulse of the Force. Her smile and her laugh echoed in the hollow sounds of his footsteps and he hurried inside. He felt as though his conflicted thoughts would float away in the open air and Palpatine would perceive his weakness. The door slid closed behind him and he felt a fraction more secure... as though a door and a roof would stop his master's perception. As though anything would. He shivered and though of how he must kill Palpatine and free himself... but brown eyes and a warm presence kept distracting him. Why must everything be so difficult?

He shrugged off his heavy outer cloak and flung himself down in his private chambers to meditate. He felt himself drifting off to sleep after only a few moments. His thoughts clouded and relaxed and he realized through the haze that he did not dread the morning. A day full of dull duties, sycophantic senators, and the constant fear of Palpatine - but he felt nothing but anticipation for the coming day at the Senate... because that was where _she_ would be. He smiled in his sleep.

* * *

Vader's home was part of the enormous complex that housed the Imperial Palace. It stood apart from the palace itself, shorter, plainer, but still palatial and imposing. Dark metals and sharp corners created an uninviting and even fearsome aspect to the structure, which was likely why Vader had chosen it to be his estate when the Sith monarchy of the Imperial Government had established itself.

But no one could ever know for sure, thought the cloaked figure from a ledge opposite Vader's landing pad. Lord Vader being as secretive and reclusive as he was, he never gave interviews or spoke publicly when he could avoid it. And given his reputation, most reporters and politicians were inclined to give him all the space he desired. The inky figure winced and rubbed absently at the phantom grip he suddenly imagined clamping around his throat. He knew what Lord Vader was capable of. He had found many a colleague dead with the telltale bruising around their throat, bruising that was distinctly free of fingerprints or any sort of hand marking... because Vader didn't even touch them. He shivered again, but suppressed it, glancing down to make sure his black clothing was still indistinguishable from the shadows around him. Satisfied, he raised his electrobinoculars and trained them on the door Vader had swept through moments before, focusing on the mission at hand: reconnoitering Lord Vader himself. It was risky business - the very riskiest in fact, with the highest mortality rate of any assignment he had ever seen. But one did not become a prized member of Palpatine's elite spies by indulging in squeamishness. He let the fear prickling at his neck float away with the next breeze and returned to his work.

Nothing. Vader was likely asleep for the night.

Shifting into a slightly more comfortable position, he slid a tiny datapad from one of his pockets and powered it on. A filtering screen kept the light from blazing like a beacon and giving his location away. He silently entered _RETURNED HOME - 1100_ into his chart and scrolled past the previous entries.

_DINNER WITH PADME NABERRIE (ASSISTANT TO BAIL ORGANA OF ALDERAAN)_

_ATTENDED AN EXHIBIT AT THE IMA WITH PADME NABERRIE (ASSISTANT TO BAIL ORGANA OF ALDERAAN)_

An interesting days' work indeed. Vader could be a boring detail (if you were able to escape his notice and survive long enough to get bored). He was a creature of habit and almost never deviated from his set routine of Senate meetings, scowling out his office window, meditation and lightsaber practice. It was as though he was purposely avoiding drawing attention, which was of course why Palpatine was having him watched. But today - today was different. Vader had seemed preoccupied for the last few days, and there were even rumors that he had attended the Imperial Opera, though no one could name his companion if there had even been one. He had discounted the rumor as ridiculous at first, but he had seen the evidence today with his own eyes. To all appearances, Lord Darth Vader seemed to be courting a woman. The overpowering shadows hid his derisive smile.

He was fortunate to be the one on duty on this historic day - the day Darth Vader detail became entertaining instead of the contradictory mixture of terrifying and boring. He scanned the report for mistakes one last time and pressed _SEND_. The report was away, and he would follow up with a personal report the next day. He was sure Emperor Palpatine would love to hear all of this. He smiled unseen in the darkness.


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed! You guys encourage me to keep going... Writing can be difficult and discouraging work! All the kind words are a tremendous encouragement and a great motivator. Thank you. :) _

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

A new day dawned for Padme's half of Coruscant's planetwide city, and she awoke in time to watch the sunrise from her bed. Her house droid, a cheap but effective silver protocol droid called TC-05, seemed startled to find her awake so early, and slightly miffed when his mistress made her own breakfast and prepared for the day entirely without assistance. She buzzed around her apartment with energy to burn, and the droid wandered about as its programming struggled to make it useful and failed. Padme finally left a little earlier than her typical time, turning back at the door to address the droid. TC-05 stood at attention eagerly. At last, something to do...

"Will you make sure the kitchen is clean, Teecee? Thank you!" The doors hissed shut behind her.

Teecee's gears hummed as he lowered his head a fraction. He wondered what would become of him alone and unoccupied in the apartment... because his poor, absent-minded mistress had already cleaned up in the kitchen.

* * *

The absent-minded Padme made good time even in the throes of Coruscant's infamous traffic, and there was an unmistakeable lightness in her step as she entered the Alderaanian office suite early, toting her usual bag of supplies and armload of datapads as though they weighed nothing at all. "Good morning, Bail," she said brightly, crossing to her desk.

"Hello, Padme," he returned from his desk across the room, sparing a quick glance up from his pile of documents and datapads. He frowned at the pile absently and glanced again at his assistant. Cheerful, he noted silently. And... humming. She was almost... floating. A grin wide and wicked enough to grace a Sith Lord's face spread over Senator Organa's face. He _knew_ it.

"Am I ever going to meet this mystery man of yours, Padme?" He suppressed a laugh as she froze at her desk, and studiously avoided his gaze. He had only just recently discovered that she had any feathers to ruffle, and he was delighted at the prospect. Padme Naberrie was a young woman who had suffered more than anyone else he had ever known, and he would not forgo any opportunity to make her smile... even if he had to make her fidget first. He smiled smugly at her discomfort.

"What in the galaxy are you talking about, Bail?" She resumed her work, concentrating a little too hard.

Bail Organa liked to believe that he was a man of morals, a man who saw the best in others and took them at their word. But he was no fool. He smiled and shrugged.

"Whenever you feel like bringing him around, please do not hesitate, Padme. I would love to meet him. I won't make a fuss over office etiquette, if that's what you are worried about..."

He trailed off and went back to work, enjoying her look of irritation in his peripheral vision. He hoped she would bring him around. Whoever was lifting the weight off her shoulders would get nothing but thanks from him.

* * *

Padme's irritation, like most of her emotions, was quickly swallowed up in a never-ending stream of bureaucratic paperwork. She forgot Bail's ridiculous - and misguided - teasing and relaxed into a rhythm of reading and typing. The time flew and she barely glanced at her desk chronometer. A comfortable silence came over the office as midday approached.

The door comm chimed shrilly in the stillness. Bail and Padme looked up from their work. A secretary opened the door, but Padme couldn't make out the voice of the visitor or even see them from her current location. She wondered with a sudden thrill that was a confusing mix of excitement and terror if it might be Lord Vader again. The secretary turned and approached her.

"There is a young gentleman from the art museum to see you, Padme. Palo Neruta?"

Padme felt a rush of relief that left an aftertaste that was suspiciously like disappointment. She shook it off and produced a smile. "Please show him in."

Palo entered with a smile, and immediately crossed to her desk, sitting in the chair she offered. He moved with he same elegant exuberance she remembered, and his face was still as tanned as it had been when they spent summers together back on Naboo. His brown eyes were warm as he looked around at the muted and minimal Alderaanian decor, so very different from the natural and free Nubian styles they had grown up with. His eyes reflected all that had changed and all that would never be again, but still he smiled at her. Padme couldn't help but smile back.

Until she saw Bail's idiotic grin across the room.

Oh no.

"Palo, it's about time for my lunch break - would you like to join me? Then we can talk without disturbing the Senator." She nodded toward Bail, who was the picture of smugness at his desk. She wondered if the words "I knew it" would burst forth on his forehead from the sheer power of his smirk. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Sure, Padme. I'm at your disposal."

It was an elegant feat to rush him out the door without rudeness, and Padme felt proud of herself for accomplishing it.

* * *

Palo and Padme spent a pleasant hour at a booth in the Senate commissary, reliving old memories and laughing. It felt so strange to be transported back in time with him, to days when Naboo wasn't a tragic word and a time when her memories weren't retroactively stained with grief. She thrived briefly inside the bubble the two of them created with their words and their memories, and for just a moment she felt free.

Her wrist chrono chimed and the bubble burst, the memories draining away from them and fading into the dull gray walls of the commissary. Time was up.

"Well, I've got to go, Palo," she said regretfully, feeling some of the usual heaviness settle over her. "I'm so glad that I ran into you... it was wonderful to talk about the old times." She felt the sorrow in her smile.

"Yes it was," he said, standing with her. "I miss the old days... I have so many wonderful memories. Especially with you." His gaze had suddenly turned direct and Padme shifted away from him.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Those were wonderful days."

He opened his mouth and she hurried to interrupt him. "It was lovely to see you, Palo. I really must get back now. Goodbye." She gave him a quick hug and hurried towards the door.

Palo was caught off guard, but recovered quickly, trotting to catch up with her frantic pace. "Goodbye, Padme. I would love to do this again... I'll call you." He walked her to the turbo lifts and waved as it whisked her away.

The day passed more slowly when Padme returned to the office. She occupied herself with the endless paperwork and scheduling, and with avoiding Bail's inquisitive glances and occasional attempts at conversation. He finally took the hint and let her be, although she felt surprisingly apathetic about the tiny victory. The day dragged on.

Several uneventful hours crawled by, and at last the sunlight was fading beyond the forest of transparisteel outside. Bail packed up and rushed off to his last meeting of the day, and the secretary followed soon after. Padme sat in the pressing silence as the daylight faded altogether, feeling as empty as the room around her. She thought of the art museum and the opera, and it was like looking through a window to an alternate reality full of color and life. She blinked away the images and wondered why she had never noticed just how gray the office looked at twilight.

It was time to decide whether to work late or return home. There was always an abundance of work to be done, and she had nothing at home but dark, empty rooms and an irate protocol droid. She almost smiled at the thought of poor flustered Teecee. She would work a little longer, she eventually decided. She would be productive... and if her productivity had the side effect of staving off the emptiness that was beginning to press against her chest, then so much the better.

The door comm jangled her thoughts. She blinked and wondered whether she ought to ignore it, since it was after hours. It chimed insistently.

Sighing to herself and wondering what galactic crisis could have erupted now, Padme left her desk and went to inspect the security feeds before opening the door. The security cameras had all been powered down when the secretary left. Sighing in annoyance this time, Padme made a mental note to speak to the secretary about that - it was against procedure to deactivate the security cameras when employees were still present in the offices. Besides that, it just wasn't safe. She palmed the door release, risking the unknown just this once-

-and found herself staring at black robes. Lord Vader smiled down at her. "Milady," he said in greeting and swept past her into the office. By the time she had turned around, he had already settled into the spare chair across from hers at the desk. Padme felt the beginnings of indignation and objection rising up inside her, but they reached her lips and rearranged themselves into a smile without her permission. She realized belatedly that she was glad to see him.

How odd.

The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Lord Vader," she replied, assuming her own seat. Night had fallen outside and the office lights glowed warmly in comparison. Lord Vader looked as weary as she felt, dark circles under his clear blue eyes, and his hair looked unruly, as though he had pulled at it during the day. Perhaps he had... the Imperial Senate was a frustrating place.

"How are you today, Padme?" he began in a quiet voice, the tiredness on his face bleeding into his tone. She felt a prickle of concern for him which was quickly overwhelmed by confusion that she should feel any such thing.

"I am fine, My Lord. It was a busy day."

He winced a little (although she could not imagine why), and fell deep into thought. Padme scanned his weary face and the words, "Are you alright?" dragged themselves out of her. He met her eyes in surprise.

"Yes," he said finally, staring at her.

"It's just that you seem so tired," she explained carefully. "Are you sure that you're well?"

He stared, searching her eyes for a moment. She felt the air around her tingle with an almost electrical edge as it often did in his presence, and after a long moment he smiled. "You concern is genuine," he said finally. "You have no idea how rare that is." He relaxed back into his chair and shut his eyes.

"Actually, my Lord, I think I do."

"Perhaps so. Only I wish you would not call me that." His forehead furrowed over his weary face.

"Call you what, Lord Vader?"

"That," he replied sitting up suddenly and speaking with a grimace as though the words were being pulled from him by a straining bantha. "I have a name. Or have you already forgotten?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Padme remembered their conversation from the day before and suddenly felt the gravity of the situation. No one knew that "Vader" was a title and not a name - no one. He was asking her to call him by his true name...

He was asking her to be his friend.

Her common sense was whispering to her that this was a bad idea, befriending such a powerful figure. An even fainter voice warned that she liked him too well for this to be quite safe... she realized that she was studying his tousled blond hair and looked away, the beginnings of a blush flushing up her neck. He was waiting for a response.

Padme swallowed and made a decision. She felt as she had when she and her sister dove off the highest rocks into the lake near their home - caught in that empty moment before gravity closed around her to drag her down. She fell.

"Very well... Anakin."

She was rewarded with a smile that outshone the stars.

* * *

The Imperial Palace was dark. The sun had finally disappeared behind the skyscrapers that composed the jagged horizon, and the ensuing darkness was broken by thousands of lights. Nearby speeder traffic cast a fluctuating glow, and the lights from thousands of apartments, government complexes, businesses, and restaurants kept up a steady, if more distant stream of light.

The shadows were long and dark in the Imperial Throne Room. Every member of the Imperial Court had long since disappeared for the day, taking with them all hints of life. Only the shadows remained.

Emperor Palpatine was seated on his throne, at first seeming to be but another shadow in the darkened room. Only eyes which were quite used to darkness would have been able to detect the ebony robes all but concealing the Emperor's ghostly pale face and piercing yellow eyes. There was no one to see, however, and Palpatine stared out the enormous transparisteel windows behind his throne, a cold smile on his face.

This was his favorite part of every day. The moment when all the underlings disappeared, and all that was left was success. The plans were completed, the decisions had been made, and all that remained until the next morning was the exquisite feeling of success and the heady sensation of power. His eyes, icy and hollow, roamed over the tiny fraction of his Empire that was within his sight. It was glorious. In moments like this, Palpatine often liked to allow his mind to slip into the future on the currents of the Force to test the waters and determine which way the course of events would flow. He had grown very good at foresight. It was a particular gift of his, and one which he had spent a lifetime perfecting.

Tonight, however, he was not certain that he would indulge. At least not until he had made a very important decision. His eyes slid closed and his hairless brows contracted.

He had to decide the fate of Lord Darth Vader.

After learning mere hours before of his apprentice's _dalliance_ with a girl who worked in Senator Organa's office, Palpatine had rapidly progressed from disbelieving to enraged. But, master that he was, he delayed taking any action until he could have time to think. He had always considered his greatest weapon, asset, and gift to be his mind.

He reviewed the facts calmly and logically, forcing his anger to smolder quietly at the back of his mind. Lord Vader had been visiting and talking with a young woman, one Padme Naberrie of Naboo, on a daily basis for some little time. And he had not once mentioned it to his master. The secret nature of the situation left room for only two conclusions: either Lord Vader had somehow involved this girl in his plan to overthrow his master (plans which Palpatine had known about for some time), or Vader had formed some sort of unfortunate emotional attachment. The girl, he had been informed, was quite beautiful and Vader, despite his enormous power and unlimited potential, was still a very young man. It was entirely possible that he thought he _loved _this girl.

Palpatine's eyes snapped open and he made a vague sound of disgust. He had been wondering if this day would come. He suspected that his powerful apprentice might one day be caught in a situation like this. The boy had, unfortunately, not begun Sith training early enough to preclude any and all emotional attachments. When Palpatine had first laid eyes on the boy, he had felt overpowering fear, but underneath all of that, he had detected a hideously strong bond of love between the child and the mother he had left behind. He had tried everything to break the boy of this flaw, but to no avail. Love, he had discovered, was resilient beyond belief. Even when the mother had died, the love remained. It was buried beneath all the anger and hopelessness and despair caused by her death, but it would not die itself. And so Palpatine lived with the uneasy suspicion that one day, Vader's heart would again emerge. He had learned that a heart that had known love was much more likely to love again than one that had been mercifully deprived since birth.

Palpatine knew that the day had finally arrived. His apprentice loved this girl in all likelihood, and they were rapidly approaching a crossroads. They had been approaching the crisis point which occurred between every Sith and his apprentice, but now Palpatine sensed that the stakes were higher than ever before. For if Palpatine made a move to eradicate this _distraction_, he felt with certainty that he would not survive for long. Anakin had been very sensitive about family and friends, and Vader had retained the flaw. If he killed the girl, as he was inclined to do, he would risk an immediate coup against him. And Vader was powerful. Palpatine was not entirely certain which one of them would emerge the victor in a confrontation. He hated uncertainty.

He pondered in silence a few minutes more, studying the dilemma like a jeweler might study a gemstone. If he examined each facet, a flaw would soon present itself.

And then, with the sudden intensity of a flame unexpectedly lit in a dark room, he saw the solution.

He would not do away with the distraction, and he would not cut out the weakness. He would exploit it.

If Vader really did love this girl, he would go to any lengths to keep her safe. He would even avoid seizing power if he thought it would save her life. Palpatine's thin lips suddenly lifted into a small smile. He had often pondered on the troubling thought of his apprentice's growing power and his complete lack of weaknesses. Now, Vader had kindly presented him with an exploitable weakness. All he had to do was threaten her life if Vader stepped out of line.

Palpatine resolved to allow this distraction. And he resolved to have a spy near the girl at all times that could _deal _with her if the need were to arise.

He returned his attention to the glimmering cityscape, the smile still firmly in place as a feeling of calm settled over him.

He had always considered his greatest gift to be his mind.


	9. Chapter 8

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are amazing. The reviews make my day, and occasionally, my entire life. Much love to you all. _

_Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!_

CHAPTER EIGHT

Vader's penchant for unannounced visits was becoming unsettling. Or at least it would have been, if not for Padme's unexplained enjoyment of them. She waited in anticipation each day, growing a little more excited as the sun sloped lower in the sky and the end of the workday grew near. Lord Vader seemed to possess an uncanny ability to discern when Bail's office was deserted – except for one assistant.

Padme tapped away at her console, eventually losing all track of time as she struggled to master the mountain of tasks she needed to complete. The sun had set, and Coruscant's skyline was filled with the glow of evening traffic when she was finally roused from her trance of concentration by the sound of the door. She knew who had entered without looking. She swallowed and forced herself not to look up from her work. She couldn't quite help her smile.

"Padme," came the expected voice as Lord Vader swept across the room and deposited himself in a chair opposite her. "You're still working."

"As you can see..." she began, finally looking up at him. "...Anakin," she added belatedly when she saw the pained look on his face. He insisted that she call him by his name whenever they were alone. Which, lately, had become a frequent occurrence. She ignored her flash of joy when he smiled in response. She turned away from the almost gravitational pull of the work calling to her from her desk console. It had been a long day and exhaustion made her bold.

"Can I help you?" she began, lifting a teasing eyebrow. "If you need to make an appointment with the senator, I would be happy to assist. Otherwise, I'm afraid that you really aren't supposed to be here and I'll have to have security throw you out." She returned to typing, forcing back a ridiculous smile, her lips twitching with the effort.

She felt Vader's (_Anakin's_) grin before she saw it. "My dear Padme, you wound me. Senator Organa left some time ago according to his office hours. I came to see you."

"Whatever for, Lord Vader?"

"Anakin," he corrected lightly, still smiling at her.

"Anakin," she agreed.

"I don't quite know," he started, seeming sincere, but the devilish gleam returned as quickly as it had disappeared. "I was here late, you were here late. You're not annoying. Why not?"

Blunt and irritating. Typical.

Nevertheless, Padme had to pull herself away from the sudden and alarming contemplation of his eyes into which she had inexplicably fallen.

She tried staring at her computer screen again, attempting unsuccessfully to derive some meaning from the text onscreen. The effort gave her an air of distraction which helped to lessen her extreme embarrassment. In spite of her efforts, Padme still felt a blush creeping into her cheeks as she planned her reply.

_Not annoying? If only I could say as much for you…_

"You're not thinking nice things, Padme."

His voice cut into her thoughts, abruptly silencing their rude drift. Her eyes snapped up, a trickle of worry in the back of her mind that he might have misinterpreted her silence, but he was smiling. She smiled back - until a sudden thought drove it from her face.

"Can you – can you read my thoughts?" She cringed at her stutter, and tried to appear unfazed. Vader laughed.

"No. Not with any precision, anyway. But I could definitely feel their overarching…," he gestured broadly, "…disdain, I think."

Padme didn't even try to contain her laugh. Vader grinned.

"Yes, disdain is definitely the word." He leaned back in his chair, and Padme could feel his intense perusal of her face as she again turned to her console. Her typing filled the companionable silence.

"What do you want, Padme?"

She flicked her eyes to his for a moment. "What?"

"Out of life," he clarified. "If you could have anything, accomplish anything, what would it be?"

The question had appeared out of nowhere and caught Padme completely off guard. She scrambled for an answer, flustered as always by Vader's penetrating gaze and his abrupt manner. But this incident was complicated by the fact that she honestly did not have an answer to his question.

She grasped for the best approach… and settled on honesty, as she always seemed to in his presence.

"I don't know," she said quietly, not looking up from her work.

He snorted. "You must have some idea," he pressed, seeming truly interested in her answer.

Padme looked at him again, holding his gaze a bit longer this time before dropping her eyes to her console once more. "Why in the stars would you be interested in the answer to that question?" She filled her tone with what she hoped was playful indignance and hoped that he would sense her discomfort and let it go.

"Why indeed," he muttered darkly, but he ignored his own interjection and continued his attack. Padme felt a little like a blockaded planet. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"I used to want to be a senator." But that had been a different life and she had been a different person. _Drop it_, she thought desperately.

But, as always, Vader pressed ahead when he encountered resistance. "And now?" he prodded.

Padme tapped her nails against the desk and pretended to study her console's screen. Lord Vader continued to study her face intensely, as if trying to pluck the answer from her thoughts. She was sincerely glad that he couldn't.

"I said I don't know."

"You mean you don't want to know."

That got her attention. "What?" she demanded, finally looking him in the eye. She could see he was pleased at having provoked her into engaging in the conversation. How very typical. He seemed unaware of her discomfort with the topic and studied her eyes as he always did. She tried valiantly to shutter them.

"You don't have any dreams, do you, Padme? And you seem the dreaming type too… you had dreams, so what happened to them?"

They were quickly moving into an area that Padme had no desire to go. This was ground she was not at all eager to tread, not even with him, her strange and unexpected friend. But who else had ever asked her, she thought quietly. Who else had ever cared?

"They died," she whispered bluntly, "with my family."

She couldn't look at him after saying it, but suddenly, in that way which was so common when she was in his presence, the very air around her seemed to come alive with electricity. If she concentrated, she could almost make out what emotion of his had just filled the air… she felt… anguish.

His pain had just filled the room and was nearly suffocating in its intensity. She dared a glance at him and saw him studying her with a tightly clenched jaw and blazing eyes. In a flash of intuition she realized something almost spontaneously.

He understood.

The expression in his eyes was one of raw grief, the sort that couldn't be acquired through empathy. She would have doubted that he was capable of empathy, or capable of feeling much of anything if she had put any stock in the stories of Lord Vader that circulated like a poisonous fog around the Senate. She'd seen him angry, but this was different. She saw love - and the grief that came with losing it. He had loved somebody… and lost them. The revelation was shocking and she dropped her eyes to her hands, too overwhelmed by his grief and hers to pretend to work. The tingling, electric feeling in the air receded a little and she finally worked up both the control over her own feelings and the courage she required to ask him the question that immediately intruded upon her thoughts.

Still examining her hands, she whispered, "Did you lose someone too?"

She resisted the urge to flinch when she felt rather than observed his anger. But when she finally raised her eyes again, she was just in time to witness the flame of anger die away into the ashes of weariness and grief. "Yes," he muttered without elaboration. His eyes, normally the most animated part of his face, always blazing with some powerful emotion - usually anger - were strangely and unnaturally dull. For the first time in many years, Padme felt a surge of full-hearted empathy. And with it came a realization that almost took her breath away.

She was not alone in her grief, she was not the only one who had ever had the legs knocked out from under them and been swept away into the crushing depths of despair. For the first time in so long, she stepped completely out of herself and felt… free.

She acted on emotion then, whole-heartedly ignoring what she knew was best, and slowly wrapped her slender fingers around one of the hands that he had rested on the desk. _I understand_, she thought, somehow feeling as though she were whispering even in the confines of her mind. Vader gave a start when her skin touched his. It was almost as though he wasn't used to being touched. But that wasn't possible… was it?

He stared at her hand, then lifted his eyes and stared at her. He seemed… lost. She smiled weakly at him. It was a smile hemmed in by sorrow, but suddenly he seemed to gain some traction on whatever mental ground he had been traversing. He returned her grip lightly and a bit of life returned to his eyes. His eyes, she reflected (not for the first time that night), were beautiful when they weren't clouded with anger.

"We're a sorry pair," he grunted after a few moments of silence. Padme couldn't help but laugh. And after the surge of grief she had just experienced, it felt wonderful to fill the aching void it left behind with a surge of joy. Vader grinned at her, starting to laugh himself.

They laughed together, their hands remaining clasped. Vader refused to release her hand even when his eyes started streaming. He utilized his other hand, remaining tightly clamped onto her hand during the process. Padme noticed, but said nothing. She liked the feeling of his hand in hers. It had been so long since she had felt near anyone. And then, all at once, it had happened. He emerged, and suddenly she found herself with a companion on the lonely road of grief. A friend, even.

Vader remained a little longer, talking about more pleasant things and succeeding utterly in prying Padme away from her work. When he finally left, Padme had a smile on her face.

She continued to look forward to his unannounced visits.

* * *

_Goodbye, Anakin_. The words were still ringing pleasantly in his ears as he made his way through the deserted corridors of the Senate and towards his landing pad. He had spent another pleasant evening with Padme, and nothing could dampen his spirits.

His private comm chimed. Given the lateness of the hour, it was likely a call from the Emperor himself. _Well_, he thought coldly, _almost nothing_. He held the comm in his palm, and pressed the accept button. One of the Emperor's assistants, a tall, owlish man who seemed more ghost than substance, appeared in flickering, holographic miniature before him.

"Lord Vader," he began with a small bow. "The Emperor has requested your presence at the Imperial Palace. Immediately."

"I will be there without delay." Another tiny bow and the image evaporated, leaving no trace except the fear coiling in his stomach. A direct summons was never a good thing. The Emperor usually communicated via message even for emergencies, because it was always the fastest method. Summoning him for an audience meant that there was time to spare, and that a personal touch was needed for whatever he had in mind. Vader swallowed, feeling the warmth and calm that always sprouted in Padme's presence suddenly wither and grow cold. He steeled himself inwardly and arranged his face into a blank canvas. Palpatine must not get any whiff of his plans to overthrow him. He began to wall off his mind so that he might appear loyal and calm... and unreadable.

He also tucked away all thoughts of Padme Naberrie.

* * *

"Rise, Lord Vader." Palpatine coldly regarded his wayward apprentice as he stood. It was the first occasion in several months in which Palpatine had seen Vader in person. He reached out toward Vader in the Force, lightly testing his presence; he needed to be absolutely sure that he had been emotionally compromised before he implemented his strategy.

He felt Vader's general confusion about why he had been summoned to appear before his master, as well as a vague aura of unease. He was nervous about being in his master's presence and he wasn't hiding it well. Vader was usually capable of projecting an almost impenetrable wall that masked his thoughts and feelings; his failure now indicated a lack of concentration and an unusual level of distraction. Something was occupying far too much of his apprentice's mind. Palpatine was almost certain that he knew the source of Vader's distraction. He briefly considered foregoing a deeper examination, but he decided that a lesson was in order for his young apprentice. He smiled slowly.

"It has been quite some time since our last meeting, my young apprentice," he began sedately, allowing none of his hostile intent into his tone. Vader swallowed. "Yes, my Master. What do you require of me?"

Palpatine felt Vader's eagerness to leave seeping through the cracks in his shield like warm air escaping through a door that wasn't quite shut. "I merely wish to hear of your activities in my absence. Have you enjoyed your new responsibilities in the Senate? I hear you made quite an impression on your first day." He left his voice ambiguous, delighting in Vader's mental squirming as he tried to determine whether Palpatine was pleased by this account.

"I hope so, my Master," he finally responded neutrally.

Palpatine cackled lightly, and moved in for his final assault. "And what of your friendship with young Padme Naberrie?" He flung the question at Vader quickly, like a blow designed to throw him off balance. It worked perfectly. Vader had only just registered the question and Palpatine felt the first spike of fear snaking through his apprentice's shields when he thrust his mental fingers into the cracks and pried viciously.

Vader's response was lost in a shriek of sudden pain as he fell to his knees, clutching his head. Palpatine's smile had twisted into a sneer. They struggled momentarily, but Palpatine had managed to get the upper hand early by exploiting Vader's distraction. He won quickly and proceeded to rummage through Vader's thoughts, taking care to cause as much pain as possible.

Filtering out Vader's screams, he searched for his apprentice's thoughts about Naberrie. He soon found precisely what he had expected. He withdrew from Vader's mind suddenly, leaving his unfortunate second-in-command gasping on the ground in shock.

"So," he began quietly, as though he had not just violated his apprentice's mind and stolen his closely-guarded thoughts, "it's true then." He turned to face Vader, who was struggling to get to his feet. "You have formed an emotional attachment to this girl."

Vader, still sweating and breathing raggedly from the pain he had just experienced, simply looked at his master. Palpatine continued. "I ought to have her eliminated."

"No!" Vader's outburst echoed loudly in the empty throne room. His desperate face was broadcasting his fear just as loudly. Palpatine's sneer returned. "You should have been honest with me, Lord Vader. You would have saved yourself so much pain." He relished the sensation of Vader's fear tingling in the air before he spoke again. "But," he began, cruelly pausing to seat himself comfortably on his throne. "I have decided to overlook your lapse of judgment."

Now the air tingled with Vader's relief. He looked ill after the mental abuse he had just suffered, and Palpatine decided to cut the conversation short. He didn't want to provoke Vader. At least not until he had utterly secured his hold over him. "You may see this girl," - he ignored Vader's expression of slack-jawed astonishment - "Provided that it does not interfere in any way with your duties. Particularly your absolute obedience to me. If there is a hint of insubordination, Lord Vader, I will punish the girl and only then will I move on to you."

Vader had recovered the power of speech by the time Palpatine finished. "Yes, my Master," he replied in a voice roughened from screaming. Palpatine dismissed him quickly then, studying his apprentice's back as he swept out of the room, trailing an inky black cloak behind him. His aura of confusion trailed behind him as well, dissipating as his distance increased.

He smiled and cackled again, allowing himself a brief moment of private triumph. He had singlehandedly backed Lord Vader into a corner. There would be no coup now. He leaned back in his throne and steepled his fingers, turning to regard the passing traffic.

There would be no coup ever.


	10. Chapter 9

_Thank you for the reviews and the encouragement! And for the comments and critiques as well. It was pointed out to me - and quite rightly - that I had referred to Padme as "Padme Amidala" in the prologue, even though she had never been elected queen in this alternate universe, and would therefore not be called by a royal name. This is a valid point, and in all honesty it was a slip-up on my part! I've decided to leave the name in the prologue because in the backstory of this fic (which was described skeletally in the prologue) Padme would still have served as Princess of Theed even though she lost the election that would have made her queen, and therefore Amidala would have been part of her name in the days before Naboo was devastated by the Trade Federation. She would have dropped the unnecessary name after some time had passed and most people wouldn't even remember the lesser royal positions and who had filled them. In other words, I made a mistake and then realized it wasn't quite a disaster lol. But thank you all for your attentive reading! I love reading all the reviews - please leave me some more? :)_

CHAPTER NINE

Vader flew back to his home in a trance, avoiding all thoughts of anything except the swirling lights and traffic around him. A distant rumble shook the darkened sky and a few tiny raindrops flecked the forward canopy of his speeder. He distantly recognized that a weather warning had lit up the speeder's display on his way to the Imperial Palace and he accelerated unconsciously.

He settled the speeder on his personal landing pad without a thought and slowly lowered himself to the permacrete surface, turning to walk away. Larger raindrops pursued him. The landing pad retracted into his private hangar and sealed itself against the outside and the brewing storm.

He stood motionless in the darkness for a moment. The wind began to whistle distantly against the sharp edges of his home and began to take on a timbre remarkably similar to a human scream. He shuddered and left the hangar as quickly as he could, guided by the pale emergency lights dotting the floor. The shadowy collection of ships surrounding him looked like corpses in the darkness.

Finally passing into the domestic portions of his complex, he walked straight for his chambers, not pausing to acknowledge his protocol droid's greetings. He manually locked the door behind him.

The circular room held a plainly appointed bed off to the left, and a stiff cushion for meditation occupied the center of the dimly lit space. Half of the wall was a reinforced window of military-grade transparisteel that would able to withstand most assaults and any assassination attempts. It gave him no comfort now... because the Emperor knew.

The first flash of lightning forked against the black skies, followed by a distant rumble of thunder. Rain began to tap against his unbreachable window-wall at a steady rate. He let his cloak fall away from his shoulders and he stepped forward, considering distantly that meditation might be prudent. The headache that threatened to split his skull dissuaded him.

Clutching his head, he dropped onto his meditation cushion and tried to release some of the pain into the Force. Predictably, it was an ineffective attempt.

_Feel, don't think._ Qui-Gon Jinn's voice sounded in his head, unexpected and uninvited, a voice from another life. _Use your instincts._

That had been exactly what he was trying to do, he reflected bitterly. He had followed his instincts to the girl and been pulled along a path he had not foreseen. It was his instincts and feelings that had gotten him into this mess, because they had all led insistently to _her._

He squeezed his eyes shut against the screaming pain in his head. Ripping information from someone's mind was always an ugly business, rather like trying to rip a projectile from a wound with your bare hands - it made such a mess. He could almost feel the bleeding. He couldn't control the pain and he couldn't let it go either.

And he couldn't protect Padme. The thought elicited a groan from him and sent a fresh spike of pain needling through his skull. The Emperor _knew._ He wasn't having her eliminated, which could mean only one thing: she was useful to him. It didn't take much imagination to guess what the use might be.

He slumped forward, fruitlessly trying to relax away the pressure building in his head. Palpatine would use Padme to control him, as though she was a restraining bolt and he a very unruly droid. He had been so confident that he could defeat his master... and now he had hand-delivered a method of control right into his outstretched hands. He couldn't challenge Palpatine as long as Padme's life was hanging in the balance. The rain became a shimmering glassy sheet outside his window, slapping haphazardly against the surface and sliding down like spindly fingers reaching toward nothing.

He was helpless and Palpatine knew it. He felt anger building in his chest with a fury to rival even the storm beyond his window. How had he let this happen? He stood as the room began to shake around him, the Force shivering in his fingers and arms and chest. The cushion flew away from him and slammed against the doors, the bed upended and sent a shower of blankets and sheets away from him. He was a Sith Lord. A powerful master of the Dark Side who would soon have been the ruler of the known universe if he could have just stayed focused...

But that future was gone now. He felt the familiar hollow sensation of hopelessness erupt in his chest, the same feeling that had closed its vice-like grip around him as a slave child with no escape on Tatooine and as a young man forced to train as a Sith. He had failed. He would never be free. His face was wet with tears before he recognized that he was crying.

His head pulsed with a ferocity to rival a fresh knife wound. He sank to his knees and stared unseeing at the storm outside.

He couldn't win...

The lightning flashed frequently now, striking against the spires of the tallest structures and lighting up the horizon in its ghostly imitation of daylight. One bolt struck the distant Senate Rotunda, where Padme was likely seated at a desk in a quiet office, safe from the storms and the dangers outside.

He felt something awaken inside his chest. The sensation filled the cavernous hollow places and spilled into his numb limbs. The warmth spread until even the screaming pain in the center of his head dulled and faded into a manageable ache. He couldn't win... but he _could_ see Padme. He lifted his heavy head from his hands and stared across the distance to the Senate. The rain pounded, the thunder growled, and his hopes were all but gone, but he felt himself smile. He understood what he was feeling with the silent, overwhelming force of a seismic charge detonating in a vacuum.

He loved her.

He wondered how it was possible to feel so much happiness and so much despair at the same time.

* * *

He waited for her in the corridor outside the Alderaanian office suite after a long and sleepless night. His first urge had been to jump in a speeder and show up at her doorstep, but he suspected that would not have had a desirable effect. He finally compromised and staked out the corridor, hoping to head her off before she reached the office for a day in the bureaucratic doldrums. He sighed in irritation as he paced by the same window for the hundredth time. Patience had never been his strong suit.

"Anakin?"

He spun to face her voice, absurdly glad that the corridor was empty and she could call him by his name. She looked confused and even concerned as she examined him in the early morning sunlight that poured through the windows. He supposed he was a sore sight after a night of little sleep and nightmares of both the sleeping and waking varieties. But there was no time to think about that now. Her presence was already calming his jangled nerves and aching thoughts. Her presence was as soothing as the most serene and beautiful environment he could imagine (the Jedi Temple and its Room of a Thousand Fountains appeared in his mind; the image burned him and evaporated). He wanted to be with her today. He needed her.

* * *

Padme had almost decided to give up on resuscitation efforts and declare her good sense to be well and truly deceased. She had run into a very exhausted and near-manic Lord Vader, and very quickly allowed herself to be talked into running away with him for the day. She had protested the suggestion of course, but the obvious weariness on his face and his nearly desperate request that she spend the day with him had changed her mind almost immediately and she had agreed to try. It wasn't difficult in the end; Bail was always accommodating and kind, so he had given her the day off without a fuss when she asked for it. After all, he was usually the one insisting that she take some time for herself. In fact, he had looked remarkably smug about it and had said something to the secretary as Padme left that had elicited a gossipy giggle from the girl. No doubt he was congratulating himself on helping her romantic efforts with the boyfriend he imagined she had. She fought the urge to sigh dramatically. Bail was so kind... and so very misguided.

She hurried back to Lord Vader. With every step away from the office, she felt herself grow a little lighter until her excitement threatened to lift her off the ground entirely. It was glorious... and completely ridiculous. Luckily, she was distracted from examining her feelings by the man himself.

"Ready to go?" he asked her as soon as she was in sight.

"Yes," she answered simply, not able to avoid smiling at the prospect. Only the haunted look in his eyes kept the moment from being a wonderful one. But she tamped down her worry and resolved to ask him about what was going on a little later. He obviously needed to forget about whatever was troubling him for a while... and she was happy to come along. Together, they headed for his landing pad.

She wasn't sure what it was about this man that caused her good sense to jump to lightspeed and abandon her... but she did know that she loved it.

* * *

Vader's headache worsened as his face twisted into a frown. He focused on keeping his hands steady on the controls of his speeder, and scanning the endless lanes of traffic for any that were moving faster. They were surrounded by speeders of every shape and size, boxing them in above, below, and in every horizontal direction. He really, _really_ hated Coruscant traffic. Padme's gaze was drawn to his impatient sigh. He could feel her curiosity and worry, stronger now than it had been in the darkened opera box.

"This is possibly the most exciting day of shirking duty that I've ever experienced," she commented when his silence dragged on.

"You've never skipped a day of work in your life, have you, Padme?"

She considered briefly. "No."

He smiled, feeling a little of the lingering tension melt from his shoulders. There was a tiny shiver in the Force, and at last he spotted a speeder beneath them pulling forward... and leaving an opening. His smile turned wicked. "Then Padme, it's a good thing that I'm here to show you how it's done."

He spared a fraction of a second to check that her seat restraints were fastened and then jerked the steering column straight up, plunging the speeder into a stomach-twisting drop. The engine groaned and Padme's hand slapped into the arm rest, her knuckles going white. He savored the fleeting moment of complete freedom as gravity itself lost its grip on him and he was suspended in midair as the speeder dropped into unoccupied space, leaving the seething crawl of the traffic lanes behind. The moment passed and he gently leveled the steering column, guiding the speeder back into a horizontal plane without so much as a bump.

"I didn't realize that was an option in traffic jams," Padme said, her voice only a little strained.

"Then you have much to learn, Milady." He smiled at her and pressed the accelerator.

He kept his speed reasonable out of respect for Padme's feelings; he doubted his reassurances about his Force sensitive reflexes would ease her mind if he pushed the speeder like he usually would. He was able to enjoy the leisurely drive, to his surprise, although he was sure it had more to do with the company than his speed.

They had been in the air for some little time before he got around to deciding where he was going - he hadn't planned beyond obtaining Padme's presence. Fortunately, he excelled at quick thinking.

Padme raised an eyebrow when she realized that they were heading toward the Imperial Palace. "What are we doing?" she asked immediately, but, Vader noticed happily, with no trace of reluctance or fear.

"There is a place here that you might like," he replied, and steered toward one of the landing bays.

* * *

Padme had been surprised to see the Imperial Palace complex growing larger in the viewport, although she wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though anything Lord Vader did made any sense to her. They turned away from the palace itself and swerved downward, toward some of the distant portions of the complex. She had never gotten a close look at the structures surrounding the palace before, so she looked on eagerly as they dropped closer. There were warehouses, troop barracks, hangars, and dozens of buildings whose functions she couldn't identify. They finally circled a relatively short, rounded structure with a glass-domed roof. She could see green, leafy foliage under the glass.

"An arboretum?" she asked in excitement. The sight of trees and flowers was a foreign one on Coruscant, which was itself an artificial jungle of permacrete and transparisteel.

"_The_ arboretum," he replied, seeming pleased at her excitement. "I am told it's the largest and finest on the planet, though I've never been myself." He guided the speeder into a half-empty landing bay and landed smoothly. She couldn't help but be impressed with his piloting.

As though he was aware of her admiration, he smirked at her before cutting the engines and lowering the boarding ramp. He stood. "After you, Padme."

* * *

They spent the morning wandering through an utopian atmosphere. There were smaller rooms that housed examples of varying planets' ecosystems and larger spaces devoted to ancient-looking trees. When they finally found their way to the glass-domed room, Padme pulled in a sharp breath. The trees were at least ten meters tall and many were covered in green, brown, and white mosses. Vines tangled across the grassy floor and climbed the walls and trees. There were artificial streams bubbling in the distance and the sound of steadily rushing water even suggested the possibility of a waterfall.

"Oh," she said, unable to contain herself. "It's beautiful..."

"It's very... peaceful," he said by way of agreement. His eyes were shut and his face relaxed when she glanced at him.

They walked down one of the paths that branched away from the door. The air was warm and fragrant and the silence comfortable.

"Was that what you needed today? Some peace?" she asked him finally, studying the flowers on either side of the pathway. Vader didn't respond for a long moment. "I suppose it was," he replied thoughtfully. He came to stand beside her and join in her examination of the red and blue lilies.

"It was a difficult night," he added suddenly.

Padme blinked at him, and turned back to touch the velvety petals. "Did something happen?" she asked carefully, probing at the subject as though it was a delicate wildflower itself. She saw him staring at her, could feel the weight of his evaluation as he decided something...

"Yes." He paused for a long moment. "The Force opens many possibilities for power," he said, staring at something unseen. "And for pain." She almost missed his shiver.

She was completely out of her depth. She didn't even understand what the Force _was, _let alone how it might have hurt him... but she did know that the thought made her angry.

"Then why do you use the Force?"

"Why do you breathe?" he fired back, his tone somewhere between irritation and surprise.

"What is it like? The Force," she clarified, trying to approach the topic from a new angle.

He considered the question in silence, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Energy," he said finally. "Like electrical surges in your mind and your body that you can shape to your will."

"You can move things without touching them," she said, remembering her bag suspended in midair, his hand stretched toward it.

"Yes."

"And you said mind... you have powers over the mind too?" She thought suddenly of the way every room he entered crackled and sparked to life, the very air tingling around him. That strange energy that roiled around him... was it the Force?

"It is possible to communicate mentally." He sounded hesitant, as though he was choosing his words carefully.

"Could you communicate with my mind?" she asked suddenly.

"Probably not," he said with a laugh. "Unless you're a Sith?" he asked hopefully. Padme laughed in turn. Vader shrugged. "It was worth a try," he said with an air of longsuffering. "You would certainly be much more fun than-" he cut himself off abruptly and turned grey. The dark circles under his eyes stood out violently against his ashen face and Padme felt fiercely sorry for whatever he was struggling with.

"The Emperor," she whispered, understanding. "You mean that you can communicate with Palpatine's mind? That's… scary."

"You have no idea."

"How exactly does it work?"

"A little like a commlink, I suppose, although that's a crude way of describing it. It only works between Force Sensitives in theory… but I personally believe that a strong attachment between a Force User and a non-Force User could make it possible for them to communicate in that way. Not that I've ever tried it."

"Hm. So they'd have to be… kindred spirits?"

"Something like that."

They had been drifting down the path, and Padme's eyes had glanced over hundreds of exotic flowers and trees without seeing them. The color seemed to have drained from the flowers and even the sunlight as he was speaking. She could hear the pain in his voice over whatever had happened and it disturbed her. "I'm sorry for whatever happened last night," she whispered, staring blankly at a patch of tiny golden buds.

"Don't be," he answered in a stronger voice. "It motivated me to spend the day with you." He was smiling warmly when she looked at him. She felt herself blush and tried to give her attention to the flowers and vines and trees.

Naturally, she failed.


	11. Chapter 10

_First of all, I'm sorry for the huge gap between updates. As a fan fiction reader, I always hated it when authors did that! I have much more sympathy now, as I'm attempting my first lengthy work. I'm sorry and I hope you all won't hate me. All I have to offer is the old excuse: real life got busy and fan fiction went on the back burner. I'm hoping to get back on track now! Much love and many thanks to those reviewers who encouraged me to post during my hiatus. Choc me1, hbarienr, and sodorland - you guys are the best. :) And thanks also to everyone who has put this story on alert! Leave me a review? _

_Oh, and a heads up... In this chapter, stuff goes DOWN. So buckle up..._

CHAPTER TEN

Padme stopped suddenly in the corridor outside Senator Organa's office, sighing in exasperation. She could never seem to leave the office without leaving at least one vital item behind. She had barely been out of the office for a minute, and she was forced to return. She spun on her heel, shifting her load of data pads to one arm so she could enter the security key. The doors slid open and she hurried in, her eyes scanning her desk for the missing items.

She had just snatched up her forgotten bag and turned back to the door, when she suddenly realized that something was terribly wrong. Instead of finding Bail seated quietly at his desk, preparing for the next day's meetings, she found a violent tableau frozen before her eyes. Three black-clad men, masked and armed - and humanoid as far as she could tell - surrounded her mentor and employer. One had twisted his arms behind his back, and another was pointing a wicked looking blaster rifle at his head. The third had his weapon trained on Padme's head. All four of the men were staring at her. Bail looked horrified at her reappearance, and the masked figures seemed a little panicky by the introduction of a wrench into their plans.

Padme's fingers tightened around the handle of her bag and she was just beginning to wonder if she should chance making a run for it when one of the masked figures spoke.

"You," said the one with his gun pointed at her. "Drop the junk. And put your hands above your head. Now."

Padme realized too late that her only chance of escape had been the milliseconds when she first entered the room. Now she was trapped. She glanced at Bail and mentally corrected herself. They were both trapped. She let her armload of objects slide from her arms onto her desk and she raised her hands.

As their attackers bound first Bail and then Padme to their chairs, keeping at least one blaster barrel trained on them at all times, Padme's mind raced as she tried to unravel who might be responsible for this. Political enemies… personal enemies… Bail had made a few of both during his life. But this - she couldn't understand or explain it. She studied Bail's face at they both had silencing circuits strapped to their throats. He looked fearful, but not surprised. If anything he wore the expression of a man whose long-awaited doom had finally fallen upon him. Padme didn't know of any activities on his part that would bring on such repercussions, so she gravitated to the only logical conclusion. Bail was involved in something that she knew nothing about. Padme closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the steady center of calm that she had retreated to in some of the darkest days of the occupation of Naboo. She quieted her mind, mentally slipping away from the chaos and fear that threatened to choke her. She heard their captors withdraw to a far corner of the large office and whisper urgently amongst themselves. She tuned out the whispers - she couldn't make them out anyway - and calmly forced herself to think. There must be some way out of this. Unbidden, an image of Lord Vader appeared in her mind's eye. His smile… she opened her eyes and the image vanished. She felt a distant stab of fear as she held onto her calm with a deathgrip. There _must _be a way out of this.

There had to be.

* * *

Lord Vader was attempting to read an interrogation report for the third time when he finally gave up. He was much too exhausted. Passing a gloved hand over his eyes, he sighed and cleared the offending data pad from his line of sight with a slight nudge of the Force. He stared at the chrono on his desk, trying to decide whether it was too late to think up an excuse to pass by Senator Organa's office and accidentally meet Padme on her way out. He felt hope springing up inside his chest, much to his irritation. Another glance at his chrono, however, and he was all but sure that she would have left by now. He sighed again, more forcefully this time and stood. He needed meditation time. And possibly some sleep. He grimaced involuntarily and tried not to think about the fact that he would most likely be facing insomnia and nightmares. Like he almost always did.

He switched off his desk consoles and swept all the day's clutter of flimsiplast and data pads to one side of the desk, leaving the interrogation report on top. He would return to it in the morning. He was moving for the door, eager as always to leave the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Senate and simultaneously fighting the irrational urge to pass by Organa's office on his way to the landing pads, when he felt it. A tiny disturbance in the Force. It was almost like a barely-perceived voice whispering softly at him to _wait._ He obeyed, having learned many times over that ignoring the Force never ended well. It was almost nothing - just the tiniest tug. He ought to ignore it and return to his abode for some much needed rest. But he suddenly felt that he _must not _ignore this. He quieted his mind and waded into the currents of the Force, searching for the source of this tiny ripple.

He drifted and searched. His brows contracted and he waited.

* * *

Padme's eyes flew open. An answer had occurred to her - an odd answer and one that she was not at all certain would work.

Her eyes found the three men talking and gesturing tensely. She could sense that whatever the source of their indecision, it would not last much longer.

_"You mean that you can communicate with Palpatine's mind? That's… scary."_

_"You have no idea."_

_"How exactly does it work?"_

_"A little like a commlink, I suppose, although that's a crude way of describing it. It only works between Force Sensitives in theory… but I personally believe that a strong attachment between a Force User and a non-Force User could make it possible for them to communicate in that way. Not that I've ever tried it."_

_"Hm. So they'd have to be… kindred spirits?"_

_"Something like that."_

Vader's words echoed distantly in her mind. She glanced again at their captors, feeling the time slipping away with ever increasing rapidity. There was nothing for it.

She shut her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could. _Anakin! _she pushed her thoughts out with every scrap of mental energy she possessed. She wasn't sure what it meant to yell mentally, but she couldn't think of any other ways to describe it. _Anakin - help!_

Padme felt like an idiot for even attempting something that was most likely impossible. But helplessness was capable of inspiring great perseverance, she found. After encountering nothing but silence in response to her mental cries, Padme tried a different strategy. She conjured up every memory of Vader that she could, trying to see him in her mind, to visualize him and what he was like… and to imagine him hearing her. Only then did she throw out her mental pleas once again.

* * *

The ripples had become more pronounced. He could almost make them out…

_Anakin! _The voice exploded inside his thoughts, shocking him. At first he wondered why _that _name would enter his mind, then he realized that it wasn't his own mind that he was hearing. _Anakin - help! _He recognized her. Not her voice, for there was no sound of course, but _her._ She was all there - her essence. He knew that for the first time, he was in contact with the mind of Padme Naberrie. He latched on to the connection like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. As he drew nearer to her mental presence, he was able to distinguish a few more thoughts and emotions. She was still in Organa's office - and she was afraid.

Tightening his grip on their sudden connection, he rushed from the room, his face grim and his hand firmly settled on his lightsaber. He would find out precisely what was going on. And then someone was going to pay.

* * *

Suddenly, he was there. It was as though a door had been thrown open and _he _came rushing in. It was like he was in the room - his presence was definitely there. It was just a more concentrated form. She had reached him! She felt him understand her and through the sudden link, she _knew _that he was coming.

She could have laughed in relief, but the silence of the room suddenly intruded upon her senses. She opened her eyes, all the while maintained her feeble grip on the connection with Vader. The masked men were staring at her, and she swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted painfully and she screamed mentally for Vader to _hurry!_

She saw death in their eyes.

* * *

Pounding through the hallways at Force-enhanced speed, Vader cleared himself a path with rough Force shoves when necessary. Several unfortunate janitors had already been unceremoniously pushed into walls, but Vader thought nothing of it. A moment ago he had felt Padme's situation - whatever it was - change. She was in mortal danger. He was sure of it.

He raced forward, focusing his mind on her presence. It was growing nearer by the moment, and her feelings were becoming clearer with the closer proximity. Vader's face grew darker and he used his anger to draw the Dark Side of the Force around himself like a hurricane. He couldn't wait to unleash this impending storm on whatever fools had caused Padme - _his _Padme - to be so afraid.

He finally reached the corridor that led to Organa's office, and with a final burst of speed, he found himself at the doors.

* * *

"Wrong place, wrong time, sweetheart." The tallest of the three figures dragged Padme, chair and all, over to a corner. The other two weren't looking at her. Bail's eyes had gone wide with horror and his face was deathly pale. Padme could only imagine what her own expression looked like.

She threw all her energy into chanting _hurry, hurry, hurry_ in her mind. The masked man raised his weapon and aimed between her eyes. She felt a scream building in her throat and the silencing circuit began to burn her and constrict the muscles. She was going to die and she couldn't even scream. She felt Vader's presence still, and it calmed her somehow. At least she wouldn't die alone. She had always known that she would die all alone, ever since her family's death, but now, just as he had so many times before, Vader surprised her. She could feel his desperation to get to her. She would be safe if he was here… Her eyes came back to the blaster barrel that was just inches from her face. But he would be too late. Still, she was grateful that he was with her in some way. She shut her eyes and tried to send him one last thought.

_It's alright, Anakin. Thank you… for everything._

She almost didn't form the next thought, but at the point of death, what did it matter? For the first time in a very long while, Padme allowed herself to be entirely honest with herself - and with him.

_I love you._

She waited for the shot.

She imagined that she heard the trigger squeak slightly as it was pulled, but no shot ever came. A sudden, thunderously loud crash shattered her thoughts and filled the room with smoke. The blaster disappeared in the sudden fog and Padme struggled to see as wracking coughs seized her throat. The silencing circuit was hurting her again and causing her throat to convulse even further.

The fog swirled around her and frightening sounds issued from within the cloud. Unintelligible shouting was followed by several bursts of blaster fire which cut blood red trails through the smoke. Suddenly the shouting was replaced by an unpleasant gurgling. Padme peered through the haze and tried desperately to make out something - anything. She struggled against the silencing circuit for breath and succumbed to coughing again.

Another round of blaster fire started up and a strange burst of blue energy exploded in the dusty cloud. The firing stopped.

A beam of red light about a meter long suddenly appeared, humming loudly as it moved methodically across the room. Suddenly, Padme's jarred mind understood.

A muffled shriek came from across the room, until it was abruptly silenced by a vicious sideways swipe of the beam. Padme was finding it harder and harder to draw breath between the swirling dust and the convulsing effect of the silencing circuit. The room had fallen silent aside from her rasping cough.

Just as she began to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, _he _appeared at her side.

"Padme," he breathed, searching her for any sign of injury. He plucked the silencing circuit from her throat, and made short work of her bonds with his lightsaber. In one motion, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the hallway.

Padme rubbed her throat and concentrated on breathing in and out steadily. She was also trying to resist the oncoming effects of going into shock. She felt very shaky and was glad when Lord Vader left a supportive arm around her when he set her on her feet. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to stand otherwise.

"You," she rasped out after a few shaky breaths, "You heard me."

"I did." He smiled at her, still examining her, watching for any sign of injury or weakness. Satisfied, he continued. "I heard everything."

She blushed at this, her last thought returning to her with painful clarity. She cleared her throat, avoiding his probing gaze. "Padme-"

Suddenly a horrible thought struck her, and she interrupted him. "Bail!" she shouted frantically. "Is he alright?"

Vader paused, his eyes returning to the smoky doorway, which, Padme now noticed, appeared to have been half sliced and half pushed with brute force. A smoking, sparking tangle of wires hung out of the wall. That must have been the source of the explosion. Padme shook off her distraction, forcing her rattled brain to focus. "Is he-"

"I forgot about him," Vader began. "I'll get him."

He disappeared into the dense cloud and returned a few moments later with a barely conscious Bail slung over one shoulder. He settled his package on the corridor floor and Padme removed the silencing circuit as quickly and gently as she could. She crouched beside him, quietly fretting and wishing he would wake up.

"Padme, who were those-"

"We need a medical droid," she said suddenly, deciding as she spoke.

He studied her in silence, but reached for his commlink. A few minutes later a medical droid trundled into view with a team of Senate medics in tow. After a preliminary scan, the droid issued a positive prognosis, but directed the medics to transport the unconscious senator to the Senate infirmary for monitoring. The droid turned to examine Padme next, but she waved it off. It accompanied the medical procession around Bail.

After Bail had been taken away by medics with a gurney, Padme finally allowed herself to relax. But only a little. Vader was still there, studying her with his unswervingly intense gaze.

"No, I have no idea who they were," she said, answering his thoughts.

She wandered back into the office, staring blankly at the debris. Vader followed her. "You shouldn't work for Organa any longer."

"Why?" she asked wearily.

"Because he is obviously involved in something that's worth a kidnapping… maybe even an assassination."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind."

"I'm quite serious… you could have been killed today."

"So what?" she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Vader asked sharply, startling her out of her haze she had fallen into. She blinked at him and lowered her eyes when she saw fury building in his eyes.

"I didn't mean that. I just-" she struggled for clarity, for focus, and failed. Her shaking was intensifying and she realized that she might need a medic herself. "Maybe I'm having a reaction - going into shock-" she dropped her forehead into her palms and turned away from the smoky office to focus on breathing the clean air of the hall. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins and her heart hadn't slowed down. She felt increasingly dizzy and swayed a little. Vader was at her side in an instant. He was already reaching for his commlink, but Padme shook her head.

"Wait. I think… just give me a minute. I don't want to go to a hospital if I don't have to." Vader looked as though he might argue, but his hand drifted back to his side. He was studying her face intensely, and Padme's nausea increased. She groaned lightly, rubbing her temples and dragging in breath after breath. She felt Vader's hands on her wrists.

He gently lowered her hands and then lifted his to rest on each side of her head. "Let me try something," he said by way of explanation. Padme stared, but nodded. Vader's eyes slipped shut and she recognized his vacant expression; he was immersing himself in the Force. The air around her tingled like it always did when he was drawing on the reservoir of power available to him. So far, the sensation was familiar. But then, a change. The energy focused itself and Padme felt it swirl around her, into her, warm and soothing. This was different from the energy that normally surrounded Vader - this felt… good. The energy loosened every tensed muscle, soothed every aching bruise, and banished every trace of the fear and pain she had been feeling in her body and in her mind. She sighed in contentment.

And then, suddenly, the feeling faded. Reality rushed back in, and the chill of the air along with the aches from a dozen scrapes and bruises. But the edge was gone and the pain was dull and magnificently far away. Vader's hands fell back to his sides.

"Wow," said Padme after a moment. "That's quite a trick. I didn't know that the Force could be used that way." She flexed her arms experimentally and rubbed at her throat. She felt almost normal again. "You should have been a medic. Thank you." She smiled at him and he shrugged.

"I haven't used the Force in that way for a very long time. I thought my days of healing were over." He suddenly smiled mischievously at her. "I came out of retirement just for you…"

She laughed. "Thank you." Her smile faded when her eyes fell again on the gaping hole in the wall. Smoke was streaming into the hallway and she thought she could hear the approach of security droids, fire droids and who knew what else. It sounded like a small droid army. Vader heard them too.

He took her hand wordlessly and led her out of the ruined corridor and back to his office. After seeing that she was settled into a chair, he assumed a position at the window-wall and studied the traffic patterns for a few moments. Padme stared at his back, somehow aware that he was building up to something. Gathering his wits before launching an assault.

"Padme," he began quietly. He turned around, hands clasped behind his back, and regarded her for a moment. "We need to talk about what you said to me."

"What-"

"I think you know what I mean. Right before I made it into the room, your thoughts…"

"Oh." Padme swallowed.

So much for your last thoughts never coming back to bite you.

They had a lot to talk about.


End file.
